


Walking the Circle

by Kayasurin



Series: The End is the Beginning of the End [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: And saves the day, Attempted Assault, Gen, Jack kicks ass, Up a creek, Without a staff, language barriers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack would just like to take the time to remind everyone to hang onto their weapon of choice when accidentally going through the experimental snow globe, because otherwise you'll end up who knows where without a staff and only snowballs to help you.</p><p>Or: Jack doesn't know where he is, he sure doesn't speak the language, and he just knows talking to those giant rabbits will go badly. The little one, however... That works out just fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Aster pulled a little further under the tumble of rock. His little hideaway had just become a sanctuary, and he knew it. Mandrake felt himself a great tracker, but Aster had been twice as good at half the farm-get's age. He hadn't left any prints, or tufts of fur caught on thorns, or broken branches and trampled grass to show where he'd gone. He'd been taught well.

 The problem was that Onyx knew about the rocks. He knew that there was a hollow beneath the rocks, that Aster knew about the hollow, and that Aster _used_ the hollow. Onyx had always been nice to him; it was possible he wouldn't tell the others.

Aster closed his eyes and concentrated. He had the best ears of anyone in the village. The trick was focusing on what you wanted to listen to, and not, for example, the field mice mating under a bush seventy strides away.

He heard a confusing jumble of noise first; birds chirping and fluttering their wings, trees creaking as they swayed in the wind, small animals squeaking and moving through the underbrush, four people tromping through the waist high grass, and a large animal following behind them.

Aster dismissed the animals, the trees, and concentrated in on the people.

"The runt would've gone to the rocks," Onyx drawled.

Aster's stomach dropped. Onyx told on him? Stupid to feel betrayed. Stupid to feel worried, too. The opening to his shelter was small. They wouldn't be able to drag him out.

"Long way to run." Umber, Aster thought. Umber grunted his way through conversations.

"You're sure he'd have gone to the rocks?" Mandrake. "There's no trace..."

"Shortest route." Umber. "Don't mean he came this way."

"Besides," a pleasant, purring voice said. Ukiah. Aster tasted bile in the back of his throat. "The runt is not intelligent. We have left him that one place as a refuge. He will run to it blindly and trap himself."

 _What_?

Aster shook in every limb. He could hear them. The four were too close for him to climb out of hiding and run for it. They'd see him; his pale gray fur would be obvious against the dark brown and moss-green rocks. He was fast, sure, but they were bigger and older. They'd flank him, run him down, and then- then-

He went cold, and pressed back against the rear wall of the shelter. He could still hear them, Umber and Mandrake goading each other on. Their plans were- were-

"Enough." Ukiah. "You may have your fun, _after_ me. Be sure to leave something for Onyx."

Aster threw up.

He crouched as far from the entrance, and puddle of bile, as possible. He tried to control his emotions, like a proper Ranger, he _did_ , but the fear took him with the jaws of an auro-wolf and shook him. Tears escaped him, rolled down his cheeks and plopped onto the dusty floor of the shelter.

Why? Why did they hate him? Just because he hadn't been born in the village? Because he knew a little of Pooka Capo? Because his parents had been Rangers, and _their_ parents were farmers?

He'd handled the sneers and isolation. He was an orphan, and young, and a burden on the village. He knew that. But he was willing to learn and used to hard work, wasn't that worth something?

Aster shook harder, as he heard his four tormentors walk up to the tumble of rocks.

They'd be too big to fit through the entrance. He'd be safe so long as he stayed in the egg-shaped hollow. He'd be safe. They couldn't get in.

The light was cut off, as someone moved in front of the entrance.

They couldn't get in. They couldn't get in. They couldn't get in!

Aster tried to merge with the rock.

There were scuffing sounds, and several pebbles dropped out of the entrance.

"Hello, runt." Umber grinned at him.

He'd gotten in.

Aster shrilled, and dodged Umber's first two grabs. The older Pooka couldn't get all the way in, his shoulders were too broad, but there wasn't much room for Aster to retreat to, either.

Umber caught Aster's ears on his third attempt, and laughed. He yanked, hard.

Aster shrilled again, and clutched at his ears. Umber dragged him out, and threw him onto the ground.

The four of them formed a rough circle, with Aster in the middle. They were all bigger than he was, heavy with muscle and good food.

Ukiah smiled at Aster, a pleasant enough expression. "Now, runt, why would you run away from us? We just wanted to enjoy your company."

Aster choked, and curled up. He wanted to get away, but running was hopeless.

Ukiah reached down and started fondling his sheath. "Hold him," he told the other three. They immediately grabbed Aster's arms and ears.

Ukiah took a deep breath, and loosely gripped his extended penis. "Just relax," he told Aster. "Who knows, you might have fun."

The ball of snow hit him right on the nose.

Before anyone could react, a monster jumped down into the middle of the circle. It roared, and kicked Ukiah in the groin, _hard_. The handsome Pooka screamed and fell over.

The monster spun on the other three, and slapped Umber on the arm. Ice spread arrow-fast over his fur, and he let go of Aster's ears. He slapped at the ice, distracted just long enough for the monster to kick him in the chin. Umber dropped, unconscious. Or nearly so.

Onyx let go of Aster's arm and bolted. The monster snarled and threw two more balls of packed snow. They both hit; Onyx went face first into the ground.

Mandrake hauled Aster up, and shoved him to the side. "Run!"

Aster stumbled a few clumsy steps away, and fell to his knees.

He heard Mandrake yell, heard the monster bark in reply, and then the sound of a body hitting the ground. He didn't look.

He heard the monster walk toward him, nearly soundless. Just like the giant beast that had followed his four tormentors- oh. Well, that made sense.

The monster crouched down in front of him. Aster kept his eyes down. Maybe it'd be fast.

Please let it be fast.

Elongated, blunt fingers caught Aster's chin and nudged his head up. He automatically looked at the monster's eyes.

They were blue, but the monster _clearly_ wasn't blind. It looked mad, crazed, because Aster could see the whites of its eyes, all around the irises, but at the same time...

The monster crooned something that sounded concerned, and Aster lost it.

He threw himself at the monster's chest, absolutely hysterical.

* * *

Jack caught the Bunny-like rabbit, and held on tight. He'd known something bad was going on, but _damn_. It sucked to be right.

Felt good to take out the bad guys, but sucked to be right.

He adjusted his grip, and stood up. The little guy clung like a limpet, skinny arms wrapped around Jack's neck and spindly legs around his waist. Jack barely had to hold on. He _did_ , because it was exactly like a hug, and he understood about needing hugs.

He looked down at the four rabbits he'd laid out, and snorted. "Far too merciful," he muttered, and headed off towards the river.

Jack had been in the area for about two weeks now. He'd found water, food, and a tree to sleep in. He'd found a Hobbit-town full of giant, bipedal rabbits like Bunny. Jack had given serious thought about finding someone to talk to, but he had a feeling he'd be in big trouble if he did. Bunny hid these guys for a _reason_ , after all. He'd have to talk to the cranky rabbit about the four he'd knocked out, though. It didn't matter what species you were, that was just wrong.

The river was a short hike away. Jack automatically made sure not to leave a trail. He'd been trailed by any number of animals, bestial spirits, and search and rescue teams gone astray not to have learnt his lesson. He wouldn't have, if it had been for the search and rescue groups.

The little rabbit calmed down after several minutes of walking. Jack kept one arm around his waist, and started stroking at his ears with his other hand. It had the desired effect; the little guy all but melted against Jack. He heard an odd grinding sound, which he realized a moment later was the little guy. He was grinding his front teeth together. Going off of wild rabbits, Jack thought that was a good sound.

Jack walked through the forest, and relaxed a little. The field wouldn't have blocked those other rabbits' view or anything, but the trees would.

"I'm going to need names," Jack mused, and carefully tickled the side of the little guy's neck. The little guy jumped and twitched away, and kept purring.

Jack kept an eye out for opportunistic predators. He wasn't too worried; he didn't have his staff, but he did have his snowballs. That'd be startling enough to drive most anything off. Even in the rainforest-like gloom of this place, he'd be able to see anything _really_ dangerous in time.

It took something like twenty minutes to reach the river. It was huge, on the same scale as the Niagara River, or maybe even bigger. It was possible to see the other side- just- and if it hadn't been so obviously a _river_ he might have argued for it to be called a lake. Jack turned and headed upstream, staying just close enough to the water to keep it in sight. The underbrush was crazy, that close to so much sunlight and space.

The little guy had stopped purring. He'd also gone tense again; Jack figured he'd realized that he'd been carried off by a stranger. Sure, the stranger had saved him, but the keyword there was _stranger_. Jack resolved not to take it personally. It'd been a bad, scary situation, and how did the little guy know it wouldn't get worse?

Jack hummed under his breath, and moved a little faster to his destination.

The grotto was like something out of a fairy tale- Disney-ified. There was a tiny little hollow, half full of clear water, where the river current had scooped out a bite of shore and then left it alone. Trees, looking like an odd cross between weeping willows and moss cypress, hung their branches out over the water. The bank rose up along the edge of the grotto, and at the top of the bank was where the trees grew, forming a living wall of wood and prickly bushes. Down in the depression, the shore was covered in knee high grass, practically sedge, and flowering plants just a little taller. Jack had set up camp here, it having everything he could need for the short term.

He was starting to think he'd need to worry about long term.

Jack sighed, and sat down on a boulder that was the perfect size to be a chair. It was smooth, no doubt worn down by the water that had once flowed over it, and only the very top was covered by fuzzy, bright orange lichen. Like a cushion.

The little guy was nothing more than a bundle of limbs and fur. He weighed about as much as the average bobcat, so about thirty pounds or so. He curled up in Jack's lap, and didn't look much bigger than a bobcat either. He had gray fur, unlike the other rabbits Jack had seen so far, in Hobbit-town. Those ones were all varying shades of brown with white markings. The little guy looked more like Bunny, with the same markings and big, green eyes. Family resemblance, Jack supposed.

Did Bunny know what was going on with his... brother? Nephew? _Son_?

Jack huffed, and scratched at the little guy's shoulders. The little guy uncurled a little, the better to press into Jack's touch. He looked pretty rough. Grass stains, tear marks on his cheeks, dirt and what looked like flecks of dried vomit on his forearms and hands.

"I'm thinking bath," Jack said, and caressed the little guy's cheek. He just stared up at Jack, wide eyed, ears back and whiskers flattened down. Scared bunny rabbit, if wild rabbit body language applied. Jack thought it did. It did with Bunny.

Jack stood up, and walked to the water. The little guy hiccupped and turned into a block of wood. One that dug its claws into Jack's shoulders. The little guy hitched himself a bit higher, and squeaked when the water touched his toes. Jack held on tight, and good thing too. The little guy started thrashing to get away.

Jack continued deeper into the water, and reached a submerged... something. Log, maybe, or another rock. It was faintly slimy to the touch, coated with fresh water algae. He sat down, resolutely didn't think about the water and algae were doing to his leather pants, and waited. Sitting on the maybe-log-maybe-boulder, the water came halfway up to his chest. The little guy's flailing struggles insured they were both soaked, as though the water level was over their heads.

There was only so long you could panic, Jack knew. Of course, his experience was with animals caught in traps, but wasn't it the same idea? Stuck somewhere you really didn't want to be, unable to get away, struggling or submitting the only choices.

It took a few minutes, but the little guy stopped trying to get away. He stood on Jack's thigh, hands on Jack's shoulder, and managed to look disgruntled, betrayed, and utterly miserable.

Actually, he looked like Bob the bobcat during one of his twice yearly baths. Right down to the claws threatening to draw blood.

Jack chuckled, and started washing the little guy off. He jumped when Jack poured the first handful of water over his head, but subsided with a quiet grunt. Good boy.

Jack was as careful with the little guy as he was with any of his rescues. Animals, wild and tame, seemed to like him instinctively- well, except for the intelligent spirit-animals, who ran the gauntlet of indifference (every Native American spirit animal _ever_ ) to contempt (Phil the Groundhog), to aggression (Bunny. Even, or especially, now that Jack was a Guardian). The little guy acted more like Daryl, Jack's lone wolf pal. Daryl put up with Jack's work with a 'why me' air and plenty of sad expressions.

The little guy relaxed when Jack carried him out of the water, and practically melted when he started finger combing his fur. It'd help it dry, get loose fur out, and keep it from matting.

Over the past- had it been a decade already? Jack frowned, and realized it was more like eleven years- he'd had to restrain the urge to groom Bunny like this. Not that Bunny looked scruffy, but it was like washing your own back. Easier to do with help. Best done with someone you trusted.

Which was why Jack _hadn't_ offered his services. Bunny... well, they could work together, and fight on the same side, but the moment they didn't have a common enemy... He didn't _want_ to fight the rabbit, really. But talking with Bunny for more than five minutes always ended up feeling like beating his head against a brick wall. Painful and pointless.

Grooming the little guy- _name_ , Jack, find out his _name_ \- felt good.

Jack finally stopped the finger combing, and flexed his hands. Wow, he practically had a pair of fur gloves now. Pity they'd fall off once everything had dried. "Alright," he said, and got a sleepy blink for his trouble. He pressed one hand to his chest. "Jack." He touched the little guy's forehead, and raised his eyebrows.

* * *

Aster blinked, and then his eyes widened. The monster- did those barks _mean_ something? Did he want _Aster's_ name? He'd never heard of any monster capable of thinking before. But _this_ monster had saved him, and groomed him, and now just watched him with bulgy, concerned eyes.

"Aster," he breathed. "'M Aster."

The monster wrinkled its nose- _weird_ , its nose jutted way out, and its mouth was practically caved in, not a proper muzzle _at all_ \- and tapped Aster's forehead. "As-er?"

"As _ter_ ," he corrected.

"As-ti-er. Astier." The monster tapped its chest, and barked. Was the bark the monster's name?

"Gonna- 'm gonna have to teach you proper language," Aster said. "Ack?" He pointed at the monster's chest.

The monster nodded, so hard Aster thought its head would fly off. "Ack! Astier, Ack!"

The monster talked. The monster _talked_!

So... that meant it wasn't a monster.

"Ack's not a good name," he said. "No one will take you seriously with that for a name. Um..."

Ack just watched him, spindly fingers on Aster's shoulders, like half a hug.

"You're cold," Aster said, and touched Ack's cheek. Ack had no real fur, and it was all wet. No wonder it was cold. But it also had that snow... "And you're a friend." He smiled, and Ack smiled back. Wow. Lots of teeth.

"Tarnaske," he decided. "I'll call you Tarnaske." Like- like the Winter Smith, who covered the mountain heights with snow. He pointed at Ack- Tarnaske, now- and repeated the name.

Tarnaske pointed at its- his? Her? Aster couldn't tell- chest, and repeated its new name. Its eyebrows were _way_ up high on its forehead. It looked funny.

Aster giggled, and butted his forehead against Tarnaske's shoulder. He froze. Stupid, stupid, being all _needy_ with someone he didn't even _know_ -

Tarnaske hugged him close, tucked Aster's head under its chin, and started rumbling. It was enough like humming that it probably meant the same thing.

Aster decided Tarnaske _had_ to be female. Females were always nicer to young things. He'd seen it before. And his mo- mother had told him, once, about an arvo-wolf that had adopted a baby friska. The baby had gotten eaten by another, bigger arvo-wolf, but still.

"Can I keep you?" Aster sniffed, and clenched his eyes shut. Tears rolled down his cheeks. " _Please_? You- you protected me, and you're nice, and- and-"

Tarnaske crooned at Aster, and hugged him tighter. Aster broke down. He babbled in between sobs. How his parents had died. How the law meant he couldn't stay with his Ranger aunts and uncles, because they weren't _related_. How everyone in Bunnymund village _hated_ him. How the older boys- they'd tried to rape him! They would've, if Tarnaske hadn't shown up, and he was scared, but Tarnaske had protected him, so please wouldn't Tarnaske stay? He'd be good, he'd teach her how to talk proper, and they could _leave_ , find Aster's Ranger clan, they'd like her...

He wound down, and realized he'd curled up on Tarnaske's lap and pressed his face against one of her paws. She crooned, and stroked down his spine with just enough pressure. Aster sighed, and relaxed. That felt good.

He felt a little- okay, a _lot_ \- stupid now, though. Tarnaske probably thought he was just a stupid little jack now, that cried over everything. And the things he'd said! It didn't matter that she didn't understand him (yet), he'd whined and moaned like a five year old kit, a right greedy brat. She'd have to be one of El-Ahrairah's _saints_ to want him around after this.

Tarnaske made her barking conversation sounds, and cuddled him close.

Huh. Apparently the saints looked nothing like Pooka. Who knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go give CleverCorgi kudos for doing a quick read-through edit of this chapter. I wrote it yonks ago during the power outage at work and there were a few things, thanks to my horrible scribbling. When you can't read your own writing, folks...


	2. Chapter 2

Aster hummed, and snuggled against the warmth under his cheek. He'd had a _lovely_ dream. It'd started off bad, but then it'd gotten better, and in the dream he had a mother again...

Wait. Why wasn't Londar calling for him to get up?

He opened his eyes, and squeaked. He was up a tree! He was- and Tarnaske! She _was_ real! She was still asleep. He was curled up in her lap, and she was asleep, and he could look all he liked without being rude and getting caught staring.

She was so _weird_ looking. All bare skin on her face and paws, and probably under the cloth fabric she wore. Her fur was long and fluffy, and he couldn't imagine how it kept her head warm. Every little breeze made it shift and move, and there wasn't any thick under-coat. The cloth she wore all wrapped around her torso and arms also had a weird flap at the back of her neck, and Aster thought it could be pulled up over her head. And no wonder!

"It's a good thing it's summer," he whispered. "You'd freeze if it were winter." Not that it ever got really cold down in the valley. Sometimes, after the coldest nights, there was frost on the grass in the morning, but no snow. Not at all like the mountains. Although- Tarnaske had created those snowballs. Maybe the cold didn't bother her as much as he thought it would.

Aster shook his head, and looked at the cloth. The mountain clans wore clothes a lot more than the valley clans did. Unfortunately, he'd been living with Rangers, or in Bunnymund Village, so long he could barely remember the types of clothes his father's clan had worn. Nothing like _this_.

The village adults wore cloaks when it got cold or rained, while children would pull on a long, sleeveless tunic for the same reasons. On festivals, children would all wear kilts, while the adult does wore pallium- a different embroidery pattern for each festival, so every doe had at least five- and the bucks wore great kilts with the family embroidery on it.

They were _so_ hard to make a buck might only have one or two in their entire lifetime; each great kilt was somewhere between eight and nine meters long, and was worn with half of it wrapped around the hips like a child's kilt, and the other half over the shoulders or about the chest, however the buck preferred.

Tarnaske's clothes were formfitting, instead of loose. She didn't have to worry about fur being pulled or rubbed wrong, Aster reminded himself. And the- the top thing was made of a very thick material, but it wasn't wool. It was blue, like her eyes, and the shoulders of her top were covered in frost! How had he not noticed _that_ before?

He brushed at it, but the moment he cleared a patch, ice crystals crept back over it. "Wow," he breathed.

Tarnaske barked at him. He jumped, and stared at her.

Her weird shaped face was twisted up in what he really, really hoped was amusement. "Um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare. Ah-!"

Tarnaske ruffled the fur between his ears, and grinned at him. Probably grinned at him. Aster looked down at her chest, so he didn't have to see all those teeth. She made a concerned noise at him, and he looked back up.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and touched her chin. "It's- you've got a _lot_ of teeth."

She tilted her head, eyebrows all scrunched together. After a moment, she smiled again, but this time her lips were closed.

Aster brightened, and smiled back. "That's loads better," he told her. "Um, can we get down?" He pointed towards the ground. "I, uh, I have to, uh, go."

Tarnaske frowned at him, and then wrapped one arm around his waist. Before he really got what was happening, she swung down and off the branch. She held on to it with one hand, so they dangled, and then _she let go_.

Aster squeaked, too frightened to scream, and then they landed.

He... wasn't splat. He cracked one eye open, and looked over at Tarnaske. Strange face or not, she was amused, no doubt. She barked and hissed at him, and yup, amused. Reassuring, but amused.

He looked back up at the tree branch they'd slept on. It wasn't _that_ high up, he supposed. But still. "Do you even know what fear is?" he asked her.

Tarnaske rubbed her cheek against his forehead, and let him go.

Aster started towards the bushes, and she followed. He turned and held his hands up. "No. You stay, I go." He pointed at himself, then at the bushes. "You _stay_."

"Sh-tray?" Tarnaske shrugged, and when Aster backed away several steps, didn't follow. Good.

"That's right," he said. "Stay." Then he hurried behind the bushes to relieve his bladder.

That done, he all but ran back to Tarnaske's side. It was stupid, but he half-thought she'd vanish if out of his sight for too long. She hugged him, then- strangely- pulled him towards the water.

"I'm not thirsty." Unless she meant to soak him again. He pulled back. He did _not_ want to get wet.

Tarnaske didn't let go, and he ended up kneeling beside the river. Then, for some reason, she made him splash his hands in the water and rub them together. His hands got wet up to the wrist, but not the rest of him, but what was the point to the odd ritual?

Aster shook his hands, and wrinkled his nose at the cold feeling of wet fur. Tarnaske took his hands and rubbed them against her top, which absorbed the water nicely. He also felt something hard on her stomach. After a moment, he realized that her top had a pouch.

He also discovered he could fit his whole head into the pouch- but then he couldn't get it out. Tarnaske made an odd, high grunting sound, and helped him get free.

* * *

Jack grinned when the little guy- Aster, although he couldn't pronounce it the same way as the little guy did- held up his prize. It was just a deck of cards, in a hard plastic case to protect them, but he studied them as if they were the crown jewels, or maybe an Egyptian relic. One of the non-icky relics.

Those people had mummified cats and birds and dogs and- _why_? Yeah, he got the whole 'worship the animal as an aspect of some god' thing or whatever, but wouldn't it be better, easier, to worship the _living_ animal? Killing something just so you could worship your god just didn't sit right with him. Maybe he was still too much a Catholic boy at heart, with the 'no killing animals as worship' idea there.

Aster settled down on the grass, and watched in open-mouthed awe as Jack opened the cards and started laying them out. After a moment, he offered the kid the deck, and he took it hesitantly. Then he settled down, putting the cards out in groups of four by suite. Jack smiled and left him to it.

What now?

There was no way, just _no way_ he'd let Aster go back to where those bullies could get at him again. Just- no. It was not a thing that would happen. But he had no idea if he could even keep the poor kid fed and safe out in the wilderness. Probably; Jack knew the woods, even if these weren't the ones he'd spent most of his time in. The communication was an issue, but they could limp along. And, well, he had to figure the others would get to him sooner or later. Bunny would _not_ be happy about the whole invasion of the Super Secret Hideaway, but Jack wouldn't complain about being yelled at if it meant he could get home.

Maybe... Maybe he could take Aster home with him? It was pretty obvious the kid was upset here. The kid had spent most of yesterday crying on Jack's shoulder, or into Jack's chest, or just plain crying. He was happier today, and Jack figured it had something to do with waking up in a tree.

Still. They'd have to stay in the general area of the village. The whole 'stay where you are so rescuers can find you' idea. Not that he wanted to stay in the area, but if he wandered off too far from where he'd arrived, Bunny and the others would have to track him, and that'd just not make anyone happy.

Jack sighed, and stroked Aster's head when he looked up from the cards. "It's nothing," he assured the kid. "Just thinking."

Aster smiled, and went back to the cards.

So... Okay. Jack could always head back to the whole 'landing' site with Aster. Daily trip, no trouble, it'd give them something to do. And if the kid had things in the village he wanted to take with him- well, _first_ they'd have to figure out how to communicate that, but _then_ Jack would help.

"Alright, Aster," he said, and stood up. The kid blinked at him. "Gather up those cards, let's go. You need food, I need food, and then we've got some walking to do."

The kid looked sad when he gathered the cards up and tucked them away in his pocket, but followed him readily enough out of the grotto. Aster figured out what Jack was after pretty much right away, the moment Jack started picking berries.

The kid knew more about edible foods than Jack had thought he would. In minutes, he'd gathered more edible plants than Jack could ever have done. The berries weren't the only things available; there were roots, and some ferns, and something a bit like walnuts. The nuts were from last year, Jack figured, but while the outsides were a bit off, the meat inside was still sound.

It made for a satisfying meal. Jack brushed his hands off, and then spent a minute wiping at Aster's face. The food hadn't even been the type given to crumbs, so _how_ had he gotten covered in them?

Aster ground his teeth, and butted his head against Jack's hands. Which didn't exactly help with the whole 'get clean' idea, but it was very, very cute. Hard to say no to. Jack had to grab Aster's chin with one hand to get him to hold still, in the end.

Once Jack had gotten the kid neatened up, he started walking. Aster frisked along side, and it was really impossible not to make the comparison to a young colt, or maybe a puppy. A very energetic puppy that managed to run three times as much as you walked, because the puppy insisted on running in circles around you.

At least, unlike the puppy, Aster kept out from underfoot while doing his circles.

Jack tucked his hands into his pocket. Aster babbled, at least, Jack assumed it was babbling. Lots of word-type sounds. Nothing at all like any language he'd heard before, and Jack liked to travel. Not that he could go for a long time away from America; weird but true, he was strongest in that country, and not every winter spirit was friendly. Most, actually, weren't. If Jack was going to honk them off, he wanted to be on his own turf with every advantage he could get, including a cranky, volcano-protecting spirit over in Yellowstone National Park.

At any rate, he'd traveled. If it was a place that got snow, he'd been there. Even a few places that didn't get cold, though he couldn't stand being in the Sahara Desert for too long. He'd heard a lot of languages, and could fumble his way through about half of them. The language Aster spoke? He had no clue. It sounded, a very little, like the Celtic and Gaelic he'd heard three hundred years back, when he'd first started skipping about and figuring out what he was and why no one could see him. But at the same time, very much... nothing like Celtic, or Gaelic.

It took Aster a bit to figure out what direction they were going, and then he quieted down. He moved closer to Jack, and grabbed hold of his sweater with one hand.

"It's alright," Jack said. "You're not going back. I promise."

Aster looked up at him, and then nuzzled into Jack's side.

Yeah, okay, carrying the kid now.

They made it all the way to the pile of rocks where Jack had first met Aster, before his arms got tired. He looked around, but there sure weren't any bullies to be seen. Good, they must have run off. Jack set Aster down, and leaned up against the rocks. Thirty pounds sure didn't seem like much when you first picked it up, but then it just got heavier and heavier.

Aster crouched down at Jack's feet. He shook, a little. Well, no wonder! Considering what had almost happened here.

"Hey," he said. "It's alright. I've got you."

The kid sniffed, then turned and rubbed his face against Jack's knee.

Jack crouched down, moving slowly so the kid could adjust to the movement. "Hey," he said, and held out his hands. After a moment, Aster took them. He was so small; he couldn't even wrap his fingers all the way around Jack's palms.

It took a little concentration, but Jack managed to form a few happy flakes in front of his nose. He blew them at Aster. The kid blinked and giggled when they burst into blue sparks in front of his eyes.

"I'll protect you," Jack said. Aster sobered and stared at him. As if, maybe, if he looked into Jack's eyes hard enough, he'd understand what Jack was saying. "I'll take care of you, kid, and I won't let anyone hurt you ever again. Okay? You and me."

He squeezed Aster's hands, and nodded once.

Aster squeezed back.

* * *

He'd never thought he'd ever feel safe in this place again. His little sanctuary had been violated, and Aster had figured he'd always remember staring up at Ukiah, Mandrake, Umber and Onyx and knowing that even if they didn't kill him, he'd wish...

Only Tarnaske had shown up, and then she'd brought him back. So he could face his fear. She'd done _something_ , looking into his eyes. There'd been something in her expression, so calm but so fierce, he couldn't help but answer it with his own emotions. Tarnaske wasn't afraid. She fought! She- she reminded him of his parents. They'd fought too, before they'd died.

He... He had to learn how to fight. So he didn't need to be rescued. So _he_ could protect people from bullies!

"Thank you," he told her. "For showing me..." The path he'd need to walk, to make his parents proud of him.

Tarnaske ran her hands over his shoulders, and stood up. She sighed, and jumped up to sit on one of the boulders. Maybe she was tired. She'd carried him most of the way, and while he wasn't the biggest jack in the village- even if he wasn't in the village anymore- he sure wasn't the smallest, either.

"You rest," he said. "I'm going to make sure it's _still_ my sanctuary."

He started by walking around the rocks. He climbed up onto the rock pile, and didn't get down until Tarnaske barked at him. Then he moved to the little tunnel that led into the shelter.

He only realized Tarnaske had followed him when the light was cut off. He immediately choked, and only started breathing again when he saw her fluffy white fur.

She managed to squeeze through the tunnel somehow, and then crouched at the entrance. She looked around, then down at the ground. Tarnaske wrinkled her nose at the dried puddle of vomit. Aster's whiskers drooped. Right. That. It was kind of gross.

Then Tarnaske did something. She held her hand out over the dried vomit, and scowled. Aster squinted, and then backed up when he saw- he didn't know what it was. A little like dust motes, only white and even from two, three feet away, he _felt_ the cold with his whiskers. The motes landed on the vomit, and even dried, it froze. A whole chunk of ground iced over, and the ice mounded up into- was that a _handle_?

Tarnaske grabbed the handle, and pulled.

The ice came up in a chunk, and brought a layer of dirt with it!

Aster knew he was gawking, but he couldn't help it. Tarnaske squeezed back out through the entrance, and when she returned, it was without the chunk of ice.

"That's some clean up," Aster said.

Tarnaske looked around the shelter, and then pressed her hand against one of the rocks. Frost, actual, real frost, spread out from the contact, covering the entire inside of the shelter. Aster moved to the center, and pressed against Tarnaske's side. Once every rock was covered, the frost began to glitter and reflect the faint light coming in through the entrance, until the shelter was as bright as a half-moon night.

"Wow," he breathed. Tarnaske chortled, and headed back out of the shelter.

Aster followed her, and once outside, stretched up to his full height. Tarnaske mimicked his stretch. She was pretty small, compared to the adults in the village, who got near six feet without their ears being counted. She was only five and a half feet, or maybe an inch shorter than that.

She turned and gestured towards the woods again, a direction that would take them near the village but not actually to it.

"You... why do you want to go there?" Was there something important that way? Aster frowned, and thought about it. He didn't know where Tarnaske had come from, after all... Maybe she was from another land? Or- or from beyond the _stars_? Was her ship in the forest over there? Probably not, he thought, but... but maybe...!

"Okay," he said, and bounced a little. "Let's go!" Maybe he could figure out how to get his things out of the village when they went by.

Tarnaske started walking again, slowly. Poor Tarnaske; Aster could run circles and circles and circles around her, hardly trying. And of course he did. He really, really liked her already, she was so nice, and kind, and she didn't seem to think he was stupid or needy or anything. And she didn't mind the circling, either! He didn't want to circle most of the villagers, and the ones he did want to circle would never have let him.

They headed into forest land that had been claimed by the villagers, for gathering wood and wild plants. It wasn't as wild looking as the further forest, where the villagers _didn't_ normally go. Tarnaske got a little tense, constantly looking around.

"It's okay," he told her. "I'd hear anyone before they- Hide!"

He shoved at Tarnaske's hip, and managed to urge her into the bushes just in time. Aster spun around to face the Pooka that had just rounded a clump of screening bushes, and hoped he didn't look _too_ panicked.

"Eulalie!" he said. "What're you doing here?"

The tavern-keeper's wife folded her arms and glared at him. "Eversong Aster of Bunnymund, _what_ are you doing all the way out here?" She didn't wait for a response, but then, she never did. "Why, in all of Gallifrey, did you stay out _here_ all night? You could have been killed!"

Aster's ears drooped. "Eulalie, the older boys-"

"You should stop antagonizing them," she said, but absently. "They said there's a beast out here."

"Strange. I didn't see anything."

Eulalie grabbed him by the scruff. "Well, you'll not have another chance to see anything out here a while yet, jack. There's plenty of work the jills had to do because you weren't there, and don't think Drumlin won't forget _that_ in a hurry."

She pulled him along after her. Aster flailed his arms a bit to keep his balance, and bit his lip. With her holding his scruff, he couldn't even look back at Tarnaske.

Would she come after him? Or would she give up, and forget him in a few days?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, my Pooka wear kilts (for fancy clothes) and no, they don't wear anything under them. A great kilt is (with humans) a six-meter long length of tartan fabric that is wrapped around the hips as, yes, a kilt, and then the extra length of fabric is flung back over the shoulder(s), or wrapped around the chest, but certainly NOT left to drag on the ground.
> 
> A pallium- what the adult does wore for festivals- was a real garment, toga-like, and was worn draped over the shoulders and hip. When you've got fur, loose clothing that doesn't pull or rub against the grain is a MUST. You know, if you wear clothing at all. Which Pooka don't, mostly.
> 
> So who here thinks they know what's going on?


	3. Interlude: The Staff

At that moment, I never regretted anything so much as what I'd just said. Only then I proved myself wrong; Jack spun on one heel and stormed off. I followed; hell, we all followed. Sandy and I were the only ones that kept quiet. Everyone else was calling for Jack to slow down, to stop, to wait- promising him I'd apologize and we'd explain.

Because we'd done it again. We'd assumed he knew what we were talking about, assumed eleven years as a Guardian meant he knew what we knew, and. Well. You know what they say about assuming things.

It makes an ass out of you and me.

Him and me, we get along together like a house on fire. There's a lot of screaming and things getting broken, though when we wrestle it's the furniture that takes the brunt of our frustration. At least, I like to think so. I like to think that my words hurt him more than my fists or my knees, though I make sure to pull my blows.

Times like this, I wasn't so sure about any of my assumptions.

I lagged at the back, half guilt, half assuming- that nonsense again- that Jack would go off for a week or so, there'd be a storm freezing the Antarctic, and then he'd be back and ignore that the argument had ever happened. That'd been the routine for the past decade. I didn't see any reason why it'd change.

Only, it being North's Workshop, of course it did. Of course North was experimenting with his snow globes' spells. Of course there'd be elves underfoot and yeti running around and... Well.

North's bigger than me, sad fact but true. It meant I didn't see the group of elves charging down the hallway towards us, not until it was too late for me to do anything.

Jack didn't see them. I've been that angry before. Blind rage is used as a cliché, but it's not. Sometimes you're just so- so _pissed off_ you literally can't see.

I guess ten years of assumptions and arguments and accusations can be bloody aggravating.

I ducked around North, but even as fast as I am, it wasn't fast enough. "Jack!"

He hunched his shoulders, and tripped right over the jangly wankers.

Jack stumbled, tripped, flailed his arms, knocked his staff against the wall instead of whacking an elf with it. Points for not wanting to hurt anyone, but he lost a bunch since the elves wouldn't even notice getting iced a few hours. Tough buggers is what they are. Tough and oblivious.

I could see it happening, could see the yeti transporting a bunch of snow globes behind the elves, could see Jack falling forward and unable to stop himself.

The Wind couldn't come inside and catch him, and Jack can't fly on his own.

The crash wasn't the worst I'd ever seen, but it was right up there.

Snow globes are meant to be used one at a time. North does a bunch of magic with them, he starts to explain but while I've got a good grasp of the basics, and can manage a few things on my own, he gets all technical. I don't want or need technical; I'm the bloke that can do some right good art but if I had to get schooling for it, I'd flunk.

That many globes breaking all at once- the flash was blinding. There was a- a kind of sound, no way to describe it. It wasn't a howl, it wasn't a scream, it wasn't a roar- if it was anything, it was like silence had been made physical and it had forced everything quiet, until your ears _ached_ trying to hear something, anything.

I've got good ears. I couldn't even hear my own heartbeat.

Then it was over. I could hear again, and after some frantic blinking, I could see, too.

The hallway was... weird.

The first thing I noticed was the feathers. Blue and green and gold. I looked over at Tooth, already wincing, because, well. The sheila was right proud of her plumage, the desperate pride of someone clinging to the last gift from a dead parent.

Tooth looked the way she had three, four centuries back.

Less fragile fairy, more avenging angel.

She still had her feathers, but they were smaller, letting her muscles show through more. And yeah, she had her some muscles; the wings on her back had changed back to the bird wings she'd sported yonks ago, great big ones they were, green with the flight feathers tipped in gold. Her tail was bigger, being as she wasn't going to be flying like a hummingbird or a bee anymore, and she stood taller. Maybe it was just an impression, but between the wings half-folded and taking up most of the width of the hallway, and the utter _glee_ she had looking down at herself, yeah, she looked taller.

 She'd never said, but I'd known. Back when the idea of the tooth fairy switched from someone what took the ankle biter's baby chompers and hid them away so dark magic couldn't be done with them, to an insipid, Disney version, she'd changed. Turned into Tinker Belle, she had, and it'd hurt, that children had believed that of her. Believed that she'd be that fragile, that she wasn't physically strong anymore. She'd turned right around and sparred with me, with North, with Sandy, so she got back to where she'd been, but the loss of her feathered wings had hurt.

They were what she'd gotten from her mother, after all.

Tooth's change was the biggest attention grabber, but it didn't hold me forever. North shoved past me towards his yeti and elves, and- he was younger. Oh, he still had the beard, and clearly he wasn't so young he'd regressed to before having a desk job and steady meals, but there was more black than white in his hair.

What had happened?

The yeti- they _looked_ fine, at first glance. And the elves, well, elves. You couldn't hurt them with a bulldozer.

Sandy caught my attention, flashing shapes so fast even I couldn't follow them. _He_ looked perfectly fine, at least. Then again, Sandy's a former wishing star. Children losing belief had hurt him, but I didn't know what else could faze him. Didn't want to know, either.

"What?" I asked. He slowed down, asking me if I felt alright, what the last thing I remembered was, and if I'd seen Jack.

"Jack? Damn it- he didn't go through the bloody portal, did he?"

Sandy gave me a look, and then shrugged. I suppose my response assured him I was fine.

"Guys?" Tooth said. "Do I- am I imagining these?" She shifted her wings, and stared at me, then at Sandy.

"Naw, sheila," I said, with as much calm as I could muster. "They're there and proper. You look good."

She grinned at me, and then looked towards North sorting out the yeti. From what I overheard, apparently a few of them were having trouble remembering what they were doing in the hallway. Or where they were. Or who the young whippersnappers trying to boss them around were.

"What..." Tooth covered her mouth with one hand, and then continued. "What happened? And... Jack?"

Yeah. Jack.

I shoved through the elves until I reached the spot where all the globes had fallen. The wood floor was warped, and for a moment I thought those were splinters poking up from the boards. Only they weren't. They were twigs, half-grown and dead. The centuries-dead wood of the floor had tried to grow.

Sandy found Jack's staff, over to one side, just past where the floorboards had sprouted. He hissed- actually _hissed_ \- and dropped it. Tooth snatched it up, turning to give Sandy a look- and probably chide him for dropping the staff- and then yelped and dropped it.

"What?" I asked, not about to pick up something that had startled those two.

"It's... cold," Tooth said, and stared at her hands. "So cold I thought... But I'm not hurt."

I eyed the staff, then reached down. I didn't touch it, though, just let my hand hover over it. "I'm going to pick you up," I said. "We'll get you back to Jack soon as we find him. Behave or you're going to Africa for air conditioning."

I touched the staff. It was chilly, but no worse than an early spring morning and the, surprise, surprise, frost on the ground. I picked it up, and it didn't get any worse.

"Good," I said, and tucked it under one arm. "Where could Jack have gone?"

"Portal," North said, returning to us. "Best case scenario. Look at yeti! Look at us! We are... younger."

Well, yeah. I nodded, and looked over at the yeti. They were younger, I realized. It varied; some didn't look more than a few decades younger. Others- was that _Phil_? Reduced to a _teenager_?

I looked back at the warped floorboards. That had been from the snow globes. Jack had been caught in the midst of it.

Those of us on the edges had gotten younger, physically or mentally. Well, except me and Sandy, but he's a star and magic always has worked oddly on me.

What had happened to Jack?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't know who this chapter was narrated by... -sigh- I hope I got his voice right.
> 
> Anyways. Just letting you know what's happening while Jack's off waiting to be rescued and doing a bit of rescuing of his own.


	4. Chapter 4

Eulalie shoved him ahead of her into the tavern, and at once forgot about him. Aster stumbled against one of the long trestle tables, and sighed. Back again. Oh, he knew Eulalie and Drumlin were being very kind, taking him in. He just... wasn't meant to work in a tavern. But his mother had been a warrior, and his father had been a warrior, and he was their true-born son! It was like setting a weapon-smith's apprentice to making plowshares.

Drumlin's eldest jill, Cardinal, walked up to him. She set a mostly full bucket of soapy water on the table. "Floor's done," she said. "But tables still need cleaned and after that it's kitchen for you."

Better than waiting on the luncheon crowd! Aster bowed his head and got to work. The first thing he had to do was wrestle the benches down off the tables. During Harvest Fair and Trade Week, Drumlin sold space on the floor to travelers. With the benches upside down and on the tables, there was more floor space, which meant more bronze pennies in the cash box. Most of those pennies went to the yearly tax the Mountain Lords put on the vassals, but that was all Aster had been able to overhear.

He didn't know much about the Mountain Lords, or the taxes, or just why the villagers hated both. His parents had never talked about it, and their cohort, his heart-aunts and heart-uncles, hadn't said a word about it either. The villagers only talked about how horrible it was, and grumbled about the Winter War season, but they never _did_ anything.

Maybe he could run away with Tarnaske, still. If she was out there waiting for him. They could go to the mountains, and Aster could find his parents' old cohort, and then he could learn. About being a Ranger, about the taxes and the Mountain Lords and _everything_.

His mind raced while his body worked, pulling the benches down and then scrubbing the tabletop clean for the day. That done, he carried the bucket of water back to the kitchen, and dumped it out just outside the door.

Verbena, Drumlin's hired cook and probably cousin, was waiting for him.

She set him to work, filling up the water butt used for everything from cooking to cleaning. It was only half full, and it took several trips with the water bucket before she was satisfied. Then she nodded to the sink full of dirty dishes from the cooking she'd already done.

Aster sighed, and got to work.

From the dishes to cutting bread, and then from the bread to vegetables, his day slid from morning to noon. Out in the dining room, he could hear the sounds of the field laborers coming in and bolting their luncheon. Luncheon was the easiest meal of the day, in Aster's opinion. Drumlin's jills handled all the work, none of the laborers were set out to get drunk, they just ate, paid, and left. Only half of the laborers, sometimes less than that, ate at the tavern, either.

Once the customers were done with their meals, Verbena sent Aster out to the dining room with food for Drumlin and his family. They ate the same things as their customers did, and the help, but they also got served the way the customers were.

Aster kept their cups filled with the cider Eulalie brewed each autumn. At least no one expected him to actually put food on their plates; bringing the platter to the table was enough.

Drumlin had three daughters in all, Cardinal, Burnet, and Chort. Chort, the youngest, was a year older than Aster, while Cardinal was at an age where Drumlin was considering which buck would be allowed to circle her at Harvest Fair. Burnet was like as not to go into one of the temples, since she had no interest in any of the village jacks. Of course, Aster thought, jacks were just immature bucks and prone to stupidity... himself included.

Eulalie was Drumlin's sister-in-law, through his deceased mate. She'd died with Chort's birth, and Aster didn't even know what she'd been named. Eulalie kept angling to get Drumlin's attention, but Aster thought that as long as Drumlin never mentioned Eulalie's sister, it wasn't going to happen. You kept quiet about what hurt you, and if Drumlin had gotten over his deceased partner... Well, clearly he hadn't.

They finished eating, and Aster took the platter, the cups, and the pitcher back to the kitchen. He left the dirty dishes in the sink with the rest, and then sat down with Verbena for his own meal.

Usually, when he'd washed the second load of dishes for the day, the time was his own until the evening crowd. That was when he generally went off into the woods to avoid Ukiah and his gang. He shivered, and stared at the kitchen door.

If he didn't go out... Tarnaske. She'd forget him! Or she'd give him up as lost, which would end the same way, with her leaving and him stuck in the village. Or- and he didn't know if this would be better or worse- she'd try to come _into_ the village and find him.

He didn't know what the adults would do if they caught her, but nothing good, he suspected.

"Aster," Verbena snapped. "Go help in the stables."

"Yes, Verbena." He supposed it didn't matter what Tarnaske did, right now. His time _wasn't_ his own, this afternoon.

* * *

If he'd had his staff, no question, he'd have gone after Aster and snatched him back. Flown away, even.

But he didn't. So he was forced to crouch at the outskirts of the fields, and wait.

That was alright. It gave him time to plan.

* * *

His afternoon was spent cleaning out all the old hay up in the stable loft, and helping Tieach bring up new. Tieach wasn't one of Drumlin's workers; rather, he did odd jobs for just about everyone in the village. He didn't talk much, and when he did it was always in a mumble. There was something wrong with his thoughts, too; the one time he'd asked, Verbena had smacked him across the mouth and told him to never ask again.

Aster had then snuck around the village, listening in on conversations to try and figure out what had happened to Tieach. The most he'd managed to get was something to do with a Winter War, but he didn't know how that applied to Tieach. Valley Pooka didn't fight in the Winter Wars! They weren't trained for it!

When the loft was full of fresh hay, he had just enough time to get cleaned up before the dinner hour started.

For the dinner hour, Aster did some of the serving. More of it as the night went on and fewer people ordered food with their small beer, actually. Once the last doe went home for the night, with or without her mate, the small beer was switched out for weak ale. That was when the three jills stopped serving anything and retreated to the kitchen to do washing up.

That left Aster to trot up and down the length of the room with the ale pitcher, filling mugs and collecting brass pennies. Used to be, Drumlin would follow behind Aster collecting the pennies, but he hadn't done that in months.

Tonight none of the bucks got grabby with their drink. Aster wasn't sure he'd have been able to handle it if any of them had. None of the adults in the village had _ever_ shown the faintest sign that they were interested in... _that_... with him. When the ale was on them, though, some of the bucks mistook his gender, or thought he was someone else, or- well, Drumlin didn't stand for it, but before he did anything first he had to _see_ it.

Aster was staggering with exhaustion by the end of the night, and there was still work to do. Dishes to bring back to the kitchen for the jills to clean, tables to wipe down and benches to put up, and the floor to sweep. Only then was he allowed to go back to the kitchen and pull out his blankets.

He slept by the fire, except on the hottest nights where he moved to sleep as far from the hearth as possible.

Tonight, the fire wasn't as comforting as it had been in the past. It took him a minute, maybe two, before he finally slept.

* * *

Jack had his hood up, and was crouched over until he almost looked like he was scuttling along on all fours. His fingertips brushed the ground, and his knees pressed against his chest. At least he wasn't about to be seen; everyone had gone into the houses, and being crouched over like this ensured he wouldn't block a window while going past.

He'd seen Aster working in what Jack thought was a stable yard, and then going into one of the larger buildings- and one of the only ones that didn't look like a hill with windows and a door- by late afternoon. He hadn't come out, so it was safe to assume he was still in that building.

It'd been a long, long time since Jack had snuck around somewhere with the possibility of being seen. He'd left off breaking into Santa's workshop about twenty years before joining the Guardians, maybe closer to thirty years. He hadn't forgotten it, though, and the yetis were much more alert than these rabbits. He'd kicked a few pebbles around when entering the village, and if the village had been full of yeti... Well, he'd have been tossed in a sack and then into a river is what would have happened.

Not that Phil had ever tossed Jack in a river, but he'd threatened it a few times.

He reached the stable yard, and paused in a shadow. There still wasn't anyone about.

No one had locked the back door, either.

Jack looked around, and huffed. The kitchen. It was big, certainly bigger than a family home needed or tended to want. He couldn't see much, limited to the star- and moon-light coming in through the open door and the two windows. Enough to make out a small lump near the banked fire.

He stood up a little, and hurried across the room. He could make out two, pale ears. Everyone else in the village had brown fur.

"Aster," he whispered, and touched the little guy on the shoulder.

If he'd thrown a bucket of water on the kid's head, he might have gotten a less violent reaction.

Aster jackknifed and flailed at the blanket. One foot grazed Jack's arm, the claws digging in briefly, though not deep enough to draw blood. The kid threw the blanket away, then blinked up at Jack.

"Ssh!" Jack held one finger up in front of his lips.

Aster mimicked him, and then looked between the open door and Jack. He whispered something- too fast and too quiet for Jack to even try making out individual words- and closed his eyes.

Jack stroked a hand over Aster's head and down his back, and then gestured at the door.

The kid bit his lower lip, and then turned to a cupboard. He caught up the blankets, folded them, and put them away. Then he pulled out things, but Jack couldn't tell what they were in the darkness. There were too many things for the kid to carry, so Jack tucked them away in his pocket.

* * *

For a second, Aster had wondered how he'd carry his few belongings, but Tarnaske solved that for him. She tucked them away in her pocket, and he relaxed. It wasn't much, just his father's old bracers and his mother's 'rangs, but they were all he had of them. The blankets, though, he put back, even if he wasn't sure that was the best idea. He wasn't going to steal from Drumlin. He'd been nice enough, but... Well. Aster had figured it out that afternoon. As long as Ukiah and the others were around, the village was no longer safe.

He had to leave. Or else... Well, it wasn't going to happen.

Tarnaske wouldn't let it.

Tarnaske led the way out of the village, moving all crouched over. Aster went on all fours; it was a position as natural and comfortable for him as walking upright, but he got the feeling Tarnaske wasn't meant to be all bent over. She was meant to stand tall, proud, chin up and shoulders back, like a _Ranger_.

Once they were beneath the trees, she straightened up. Aster winced for her; he could hear her spine crack and pop.

She turned and whispered to him, and then picked him up. After a minute, Aster grasped how she wanted him to hold on. He ended up clinging, arms wrapped around her shoulders, legs around her waist, chest pressed to her back.

Tarnaske bounced on her toes once, and then jogged away from the village.

Aster was tired enough he just closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the back of her neck. When she stopped moving, he looked up and blinked at the tumble of rocks several times before realizing where they were.

"Yeah," he said. "We can sleep in here."

He slid down off Tarnaske's back, and staggered to the entrance. Tarnaske followed, and once they were in the shelter, she settled down facing the entrance. It was dark as the inside of an auro-wolf.

Aster pressed up against her side, and was almost asleep again when he caught sight of the frost on the rocks.

Except that wasn't right. It was too dark to see anything.

Aster blinked, and stared at the frost covered walls. The ice was glowing. Faintly, no brighter than starlight on a moon-dark night, but it was still brighter than nothing.

Tarnaske started pulling his things out from her pocket.

"Here," Aster said, and took the two 'rangs from here. "These were my Mum's. She'd run away from home, she said, and she mastered the 'rangs. They're a herder's weapon, against the auro-wolves. If you hit them, it hurts something awful, and if you miss they come back."

She held out the bracers. "My Da's," he said, and took them. They were too big for his arms yet, but... "When I'm grown, I'll wear them. He- he was a great warrior! They both were! I'll- I'll wear his bracers and I'll fight with her 'rangs and they'll speak of me from range to range! I'll do them honor, you'll see!"

Tarnaske crooned, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Aster sobbed, 'rangs and bracers clutched his chest.

He missed them. He missed them so much. And it hurt more, now, than it had in all his time in the village. Because now, there was someone who cared.

He cried himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, who here needs a tissue? -has a pile of them-
> 
> Oh, I forgot to mention last chapter. Tooth now looks like [this](http://blogspot.joebluhm.com/2013/03/14/toothiana_guardians2_jb_2012_blog_sm.JPG).


	5. Interlude: Conference

I was the only one able to hold the staff. Sandy kept giving me looks, like he suspected he knew why. I wished he'd share, because I didn't. Maybe it had something to do with me being the Avatar of Spring- not something I brag about, because being an Avatar is more trouble than it's worth. You never know just when it's going to kick in and make you chuck a U-e.

Like the Cambrian Explosion.

It wasn't like I'd intended for it to happen. Bacteria from my fur- it should've died off. It didn't.

There's a reason why most species on Earth are similar enough to ones back from Gallifrey as to make no never mind.

At the moment, whatever Avatar power was about to kick in, or had already kicked in, or what, it seemed limited to not being in pain when I picked up Jack's staff. Always appreciated, that. I'm not big on the cold, not since... Well. There's more than one reason why Jack and I clash, and most of it goes down to him fighting a memory of a ghost, and losing. Badly. Not fair to him, but what can you do? I'm old, set in me ways, and he makes old hurts wake up and start jabbing.

Sandy knows. I told him about- a long time ago. And more recently, how Jack reminds me... And pain makes me do stupid things. Emotional pain just makes the things even stupider.

I rubbed my thumb over a knot in the wood, and watched North and Tooth from under my eyebrows. Tooth was distracted; fair enough, she had her _old_ wings back. If I'd been reduced to a permanent kit the past couple centuries from childish belief, and was only just restored to a proper adult figure, I'd have been preening quite a bit too.

North was a bit more focused, but then he hadn't looked in a mirror yet, either. I smirked a little. The fuss he'd put up when he'd gotten his _first_ gray hair was memorable, still.

My smirk fell to the wayside, though, when I looked back down at the staff. It wasn't covered in frost anymore, and honestly it was a bit strange seeing it as just plain wood. When it was iced over, all you really saw were the whorls and weathering, done up nice in glittery ice. Without that distraction, though...

Someone had broken the staff at some point. Probably before it'd become a staff, since it looked healed over. A greenstick fracture? Plants could survive those if helped out. Only that didn't feel quite right, in the back of my head, and looking at it just... itched. Something had been damaged, and there was probably a way I could fix it, I just hadn't figured out how yet.

Probably the Avatar of Spring thing popping up and being annoying. Just what could I do for _Frostbite's_ staff?

I shook my head, and looked up at Sandy. "Any ideas?" I asked.

Sandy spread his hands. The globes all falling together- it had caused unpredictable effects. He turned and waved one hand at North.

"Yes, Sandy?"

Sandy frowned. The globes. He had used the basic spells for them?

It took North a minute to translate Sandy's pictures. He brightened once he had, and nodded. Then shook his head.

"It's either yes or no," I snapped. "Which is it?"

North frowned at me. "Usual spells, but tweaked. More energy conservation, less waste."

Meaning he wanted the portals to open faster. Might've had something to do with that time he lost seven hats in a single night.

"Making them stronger?" Tooth asked. "Um, I know you have something for transportation..."

"He makes it so the portal goes faster than light," I cut in, before North could start lecturing and then we'd all be asleep and nothing would get figured out. "Faster things go, slower time goes, therefore going through the portal makes no time at all."

North huffed. "Is more complicated than that!"

"But essentially?"

He shrank a bit. "да. Essentially, is what happens. Such inexact language! Bunny, I despair of you."

Tooth tapped the table. "So... Jack?"

North huffed, and leaned back in his chair. "We were hit by путешествия во времени element, we are younger."

Not me. I'd checked.

Tooth fluttered her wings, and smiled. "I can't really complain. Not about myself, anyways."

North nodded. "But, two components there are in snow-globe. путешествия во времени and Расстояние в пространстве. Yetis found elves in places elves cannot go, so am thinking Jack may have been caught by Расстояние в пространстве."

Better than thinking something else. North and Tooth both had gone back in age. Jack wasn't that old, something I tended to forget a lot of the time. Only three hundred and change. If he got too young...

I shook the thought away. It hadn't happened and wasn't about to happen. Distance, we could handle that. Couldn't we?

"Any way we can figure out where he's gone?" I asked.

"I can use his baby teeth," Tooth said, feathers fluffing up. Only then she drooped. "Only... He never gave them back."

"What?" I asked. Never? "That's..."

"A decade, I know. He said he just... wanted to hang onto them."

"And you _let_ him?" I asked. She hadn't let _North_ keep his, but she let _Jack_?

North at least had a home!

"He's still getting his memories back," Tooth said, fluffing up a bit. Not happy fluff this time, either. "He needs time, Bunny, and I chose to give him that time. After... Well, it wasn't as if it would hurt anything, and he's very careful with them."

After what, I wondered. "But you can find them, right?"

"Oh, yes, of course. It will just take me a little bit." She fluttered her wings, and smiled. "Shall we meet up here tomorrow, then? I'll bring the teeth."

Sandy and North both nodded. I did too, and looked down at the staff. "Where should we put this, then?" I asked.

"You can leave here with me," North said. "In vault. Safest place!"

I stood up, staff in hand. "Well?" I asked, and gestured towards the door. Leaving the staff in the vault was the best idea, really. Though I couldn't say it sat quite right with me.

By tomorrow, we'd be able to figure out where Jack had gone and get him back. After that, well... I'd plan what happened after that when he was safe and sound, and not a moment before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will return to our regularily scheduled Baby Bunny and Jack Frost after these commercials. Ta!


	6. Chapter 6

There was a Ranger in the woods.

Aster crouched in the shadow of a thorn bush, completely still. Tarnaske had taught him how to watch without being seen, among many other things. Now, he used her teaching to watch someone trained to find observers, and take them out.

The Ranger looked right at Aster, and away, without seeing him. Aster didn't grin, though he wanted to. Tricking the professional scout- that was _something_. It was more than he'd ever imagined he'd be able to do.

The past three weeks with Tarnaske had been _amazing_. They were still very close to the village- staying in his old shelter, in fact- but all the same he wasn't worried about being found. They stayed away from the fields and the paths, and the instant Aster heard a suggestion of Pooka about, they headed the opposite direction. Aster had thought _he_ knew how to move silently, leaving no trace; that was _nothing_ compared to Tarnaske. Despite her coloring, when she wanted to vanish, she _did_.

It made him wonder, sometimes. There were all sorts of stories about snow beasts up in the mountains. They were said to be smart as Pooka, able to travel through the swirling snow in winter, and absolutely deadly.

Well, there wasn't any snow down in the valley, unless Tarnaske made it. But she was very smart, and if she was nice to Aster she sure hadn't been nice to the four jacks that had tried to hurt him. So maybe she was one of those snow beasts, lost somehow.

It didn't explain why she seemed so determined to stay near the village, but so long as he could stay with her, he didn't much care.

Now, with the Ranger in the woods, all of Tarnaske's lessons came into play. The Ranger was the first pure Mountain Pooka Aster had seen in several years, and he took the time to study the Pooka from his shelter.

It was difficult to tell the Ranger's gender; it seemed like Mountain Pooka had thicker fur, hiding the subtle differences between bucks and does. After a bit, though, Aster decided the Pooka was a buck; does didn't normally go into the Rangers, at least not if he was remembering properly. He'd certainly had more uncles than aunts, by a lot.

The Mountain Pooka had slightly shorter ears than the Valley Pooka did, and his fur was a silver sort of gray with black markings on his shoulders, back, and the lower halves of his legs. The markings were kind of spiky, reminding Aster a little of Tarnaske's frost patterns when she got frustrated. She generally got frustrated whenever they had a language lesson, though she _was_ getting better.

The Mountain Pooka looked around again, and this time Aster saw his eyes. They were dark brown, nearly black, and looked like two coals stuck in his face. It made him look a little unfriendly, actually, and Aster was relieved when the Ranger turned and walked off.

He waited several minutes, before turning and heading off himself.

It was strange. Before meeting Tarnaske, if he'd seen a Ranger he'd have run out and begged to be taken away from the village. He never would have even noticed the differences between the Ranger's appearance and his own. Now, though...

Aster ran a hand over his own ears, which were about as long as the Valley kits' his age. His eyes, too, were Valley green, and his fur was a bit darker than the Mountain Pooka's had been. Of course, the Ranger could have just been a bit paler than the norm, but still... And Aster's markings were like his Valley mother's.

It was strange, thinking that he was just as different from the Mountain Pooka as from the Valley Pooka.

He shook his head, and dropped onto all fours. Tarnaske would be back at the shelter by now, probably with the evening meal gathered and ready, and he was _hungry_.

The three weeks with Tarnaske had seen him get faster and stronger, along with sneakier. Aster liked it. He didn't think anyone in the village was as fast as he was now, not even any of the adults.

With his better speed, he reached the shelter in what felt like no time at all. Tarnaske was there, a small collection of fruit and the first sound nuts of the year at her side. She was lazing in the grass, apparently half-dozing, hood up and hands folded on her stomach.

"Tarnaske!" he yelled, jumping up onto a rock instead of, say, on her. He'd done that, once. She'd actually screamed and hadn't uncurled from around her stomach for several terrifying minutes.

She opened one eye, smiled at him, and then went back to her lazing. "Astier ghood?"

"Aster good," he said, and hopped down beside her. "Tarnaske good?"

She made an odd gesture with her hand, a fist with the thumb pointing up at the sky, which he'd learnt meant 'good'. So, good then.

Aster helped himself to some of the nuts, cracking them open between his teeth. "I saw a Ranger today," he said, and started detailing his observations. Tarnaske wouldn't get more than one word in ten, if that, but it felt good to talk about it.

He managed to eat the auro-wolf's share of the nuts, but Tarnaske seemed to prefer the berries, so it worked out. They both got enough to eat, at least.

Once the food was done, so was Aster's recounting. It wasn't as if there was much to tell.

"It does mean the Winter Wars will start soon," he told her. "Maybe we can watch. My parents always said the wars were beautiful."

Tarnaske huffed at him, and tugged on one long ear. Aster shoved her hand away and grinned.

"It's alright. I think I'd rather stay with you than join the Rangers now, anyways."

* * *

Jack wasn't getting worried. He already _was_ worried. He'd managed to lose track of just how long it had been, but- several weeks, at least. And he was still here, no cranky Easter Bunny bawling him out.

Either the other Guardians _couldn't_ come and get him, or they _wouldn't_.

If not for the kid, he'd have gone crazy. As it was- he _had_ to gather food, enough to keep the kid happy, every day. He _had_ to settle down at night, or the kid wouldn't sleep; curling up around the fluffy little guy tended to knock him right out, for some reason, so he slept too. He _had_ to keep the kid occupied, and the easiest way to do that was to patrol the area around their shelter and make sure nothing weird or nasty had set up since their last go round.

He also taught the kid some of the stuffy Bunny had taught _him_. It wasn't much, and most of it had been through observation during a few Guardian-style scuffles. Or, you know, their personal scuffles, though that was more grappling, and the kid wasn't ready for that yet.

When he had a spare minute to think, he'd worry, sure. He was pretty sure the others would come get him, if only because Bunny wouldn't want Jack here wreaking havoc. Not that Jack could do much without his staff; if he'd had it, well! For one thing, he wouldn't be keeping an eye on the village and those four brutes, now would he?

No, he'd have buried the village in several feet of snow and dragged the bullies out to give them one of the most terrifying nights of their life is what he'd have done.

Usually when he worried, he pulled out one of the leather bracers Aster had insisted on taking from the village, and study it. They looked a lot like Bunny's. Maybe cast offs? If Aster was his kid... Oh yeah. _Words_. Short, not so nice words. The sort his mother would've washed his mouth out with soap for using.

"Tarnaske!"

Jack kept from jumping out of his skin only with a lot of practice. The kid babbled about like a squirrel on speed, chowing down on the nuts in between words. As ever, he managed to get crumbs all over his face and hands.

He listened to the kid with half an ear. Aster didn't seem to realize that the faster he talked, the less Jack understood. Especially when everything was being filtered through half-chewed whatever-it-was. Jack ate some berries to keep the kid company, but he didn't have to eat quite as often as Aster did. Or as much. There were some benefits to his changed nature.

Jack wiped Aster's face clean with one hand, and then the kid decided to flop all over him. Not that Jack was about to complain or anything. The flopping was one reason why Jack had rescued so many animals over the years. Friendly, warm, physical contact was pretty dang important for the human psyche. If he couldn't get any touch through humans? He'd adopt a cougar.

It'd worked out pretty well, actually. The animals Jack adopted never would have survived on their own, due to injury or illness. Some of them took off as soon as they could, but others seemed to think he was the most awesome thing to come around since the invention of food.

Aster wasn't an animal, at least no more than humans were, but he clearly felt the same way as Bob, Dylan, Smokey, and a whole host of other critters through the past few centuries. Either that, or he was just as hungry for contact as Jack.

Not a happy thought, that.

"Bunny's going to show up," Jack told the kid. Aster looked up, blinking curiously. "When he does, I'm _so_ taking you with me. Not leaving you here."

Aster actually chirped, then nuzzled under Jack's chin.

"Yeah, yeah. You need your snuggles, I got it."

Jack relaxed, kid's head tucked under his chin, sun warm on his face. This couldn't last. He knew it couldn't, but he really, really hope it broke when Bunny showed up, cranky and yelling.

Because the other options pretty much sucked.

* * *

"Down!" Jack wrapped an arm around Aster's waist and dove into the underbrush. The back of his neck crawled as he waited for the attack. Aster, he tucked under his stomach, where the kid was most protected. A broken back wouldn't kill him, Jack reminded himself, thinking of the worst that could happen. It'd be uncomfortable as anything, God knew it would take forever to heal, but that sort of thing just wasn't permanent. Mind, there wasn't anyone here that could take care of him while he was recovering, other than Aster, and no way was he going to do that to the kid, but if the worst happened? He'd survive, he'd be fine, he'd just be uncomfortable for a bit.

The... creature, which looked a lot like a cross between artistic renditions of t-rexes and kangaroos, snuffled the air and growled. Kangaroos weren't predatory, but apparently it took after the t-rex side of the family more, because yeah those were fangs there.

Jack didn't breathe, and Aster didn't seem to be too keen on the idea either. The kid was practically vibrating against Jack's arm, he was shaking so bad.

The creature took a few steps towards their hiding place, sniffing the air. It hadn't reacted to Jack's shout. It had to be scent tipping it off. Was he sweating? He might have been sweating, that might have been it. Or Aster. The kid could be doing the giant rabbit version of nervous sweat. That thing probably ate giant rabbits, it'd be geared towards hunting them-

The arrow just _appeared_ in the creature's eye.

Aster jumped, and Jack nearly fell over. The creature _did_ fall over. Once on the ground it twitched a bit, and then it stilled. It hadn't even made a sound before dying.

Jack swallowed, hard. Okay. Someone was out there, he hadn't known where or why or how- okay. Person with archery set. Where were you hiding?

A shadow moved, and for a second he thought: Pitch. But no, that was definitely another giant rabbit, just, wow. Very dark gray. Practically black fur. Some sort of funky kilt-like getup, only without the tartan. Dark brown fabric, with white embroidery of he didn't know what. Giant bow and a quiver of arrows over one shoulder.

Aster gasped, and pressed back against Jack's chest.

The new rabbit snapped his head around so fast, and stared at their hiding spot.

Jack's eyes widened. The rabbit's eyes were dead white.

The archer was blind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ranger and the archer are not the same guy. Not even with shapeshifting. Just throwing it out there.


	7. Chapter 7

"More tea?" Sarault asked, the pot waved in Tarnaske's general direction.

Tarnaske shook her head, and didn't stop looking around the small clearing. Aster understood, a little, her concern; Sarault was a stranger, and he was camped out in the open. Tarnaske wasn't a Pooka, like Sarault was. If she were found, she'd be in a lot of trouble.

But he was nice, and since he was blind, he didn't know Tarnaske was a creature everyone else would call a monster.

"She's fine," he said. "Thank you anyways."

The archer nodded, and put the pot back down. "Have you been able to determine much about where your Tarnaske comes from?"

"Far away," he answered, not even having to think about it. That was true. "Probably beyond the mountains, I don't know. She doesn't talk the same language."

"So I have heard," Sarault said. He sipped at his own tea, from a wooden mug. It was a crude thing, the mug, and Aster suspected he'd carved it himself.

"What about you? Where are you from?"

Sarault shrugged. "Other mountains. Not the Etrur Range," he said, naming the line of mountains that Aster's father had been born to, and where Bunnymund Village- among others in this part of the Valley- belonged to. "To the east, across the Valley, there is another range, the Casparur. Much like here, the nobles live in the mountains, and train their warriors from those born in the heights. Some differences," he said, and gestured at one arm. "When I could see, I was surprised at how pale the mountain-born here were, and how dark the valley-born."

"It's otherwise, where you're from?" Aster could barely imagine it. "Are the- the valley-born, you said? Are they the ones with gray fur?" Except _he_ had gray fur, even if it was dark.

Tarnaske rested one hand on Aster's back. He pressed up into her fingers, distracted a moment and grinding his teeth in a purr.

Sarault chuckled. "Your protector?" he asked.

"She- she's very cuddly," Aster said. "I think she needs the hugs."

"You speak of no parents, so I assume it is not only she." He continued before Aster could protest, even if it would be a lie. "But no, the valley-born are brown furred, but pale. And we mountain-born dark as storm clouds."

Aster nodded, even if Sarault couldn't see it. "You're a long way from home. Like Tarnaske."

"Perhaps not so far as your protector. But yes."

Aster bit his lip, and leaned to the side against Tarnaske. Sarault didn't sound like he wanted to answer any more questions. It was hard to read his body language- when he was still, he didn't move, _at all_ \- but he looked... tired. That was alright. Aster would just press against Tarnaske, so she didn't feel left out. It must have been annoying, frustrating even, not to understand what was being said.

"Winter Smith," Sarault said. He blinked, and turned to stare over Tarnaske's head. "Herald of the end of all that is now. For seeing you I was blinded. For knowing what you bring I was cast out. Dancer on a knife's edge, the start of the final act has come."

Aster spluttered, his fur on end. "What?" he asked, once he could finally speak.

"What?" Sarault replied.

Tarnaske cleared her throat. "W-huh-hat?"

They both turned to stare at her.

She blinked at Aster.

"Right," he said. "But no, what? You said- you said Tarnaske was going to end stuff!"

"Did I?" Sarault sipped his tea, and made a face. It must have gone cold. "I am a seer. My sight of the present in exchange for that of the future. If I spoke, I remember it not. What did I say?"

Aster huffed, and clambered into Tarnaske's lap. She hugged him, loosely, and he pressed his forehead against the underside of her chin. She wasn't going to _end_ anything. She was a _good_ person. "You- you called her the Winter Smith. Said she was the herald of the end of everything. And- and that the final act has come."

For a blind buck, Sarault knew in what direction to stare when talking with people. The white eyes were eerie. "You paraphrase."

What did it matter? "Yes."

"Exactly as I said, if you please."

Aster huffed, and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Uh. Winter smith, herald of the end of- of all that is now. For seeing you... I was blinded. For knowing what, uh, what you bring, I was cast out. Dancer on a knife's edge, the start of the final act has come."

Sarault nodded, and reached over his shoulder to touch his quiver. "I begin to see the shape of things now," he murmured. "You need not concern yourself with it."

"No," Aster said. "You- you're talking about Tarnaske! Of course I need to be concerned!"

"What I tell you, cannot be unsaid."

He clenched his jaw. "Tell me."

Sarault sighed. "The lords that rule do not wish to hear my words, and for my words they, one and all, drove me from their mountains. Neither the Etrur nor the Casparur welcome me now. But if we the Pooka are in the summer of our regency, as the priests claim, does that not mean there will be an autumn, and a winter, as there was a spring?"

"I never went to listen to the priest," Aster said. "Bunnymund Village isn't big enough for one. If there was time, the villagers went to-"

" _Kish_ , Aster of Bunnymund. The priests say that we as a species are in summer, a time of golden oats and plenty. Summer holds no true trials. We have moved past the spring of growth. They claim we will not enter the autumn of preparation, nor the winter of war. Not as a _species_."

Aster looked up at Tarnaske. For the first time in a while, he was struck by how _different_ she looked. "What does that have to do with Tarnaske?"

"The Winter Smith of legend heralds the change of seasons, does he not? Ruling the winds from the Roof of the World, deciding whether peaceful heat or violent cold blow upon us?"

Aster nodded, then winced and said, "Yes. That's what the stories say." But Tarnaske was _nice_. She wouldn't call winter blizzards on _anyone_.

"Would not the personification of the Winter Smith, the Smith made physical, herald _another_ change?" Sarault huffed and shook his head. "My visions are not clear. But I see cold made flesh, a half-breed warrior staring down the end of days, and a rebirth far distant."

Aster's skin was crawling. "But- but- but it _can't_ be Tarnaske."

"You named her for the Winter Smith. But there," he said, and smiled. "It might only be coincidence."

* * *

There was something out there. Jack had no idea what- it didn't feel predatory, just like eyes, staring at him- but it was freaking him out. Almost as much as the kid talking with the archer guy.

"I'm just going to call you Hawkeye, oh blind one," he told the archer guy. Sar-salt, if he had the pronunciation right, but he probably didn't. Ergo, Hawkeye. "Simpler for us all."

Hawkeye stared in his direction, then turned and started talking to Aster. Jack shoved down the urge to punch the guy. Punching blind people was rude and not a habit he should be getting into.

Not even if he really, _really_ wanted to.

He went back to studying the edges of the clearing, looking for the eyes that _had_ to be staring out at them. He didn't pay much attention to the conversation the kid was having, other than keeping one ear out on tone of voice. When the kid started sounding worried, upset, he turned back in.

Hawkeye said Jack's name- well, the nickname Aster had given him- and then kept talking in a strangled sort of voice. It was weird. And freaking the kid out, if the trembling was any indication.

The kid said something when Hawkeye finished talking. Hawkeye said it right back.

Oh, what the heck. "W-huh-hat?" Jack said, trying to mimic how Hawkeye had said it. He might've been a bit off, since they both stared at him. There was nothing quite as unnerving as a child's stare, unless it was a blind man's.

They looked away from him and started talking again. Aster climbed into his lap, and Jack wrapped his arms around the kid from sheer self preservation. Kids. They never realized that getting hit in the groin _hurt_ a man. It was always whack there and kick there and no, of course he didn't need or want those bits, go ahead and whale away.

Of course, Aster started squirming around and nuzzling under Jack's chin. At least giant rabbit kids didn't mean it the way baby wolves did, because no. Just no. Jack was _not_ going to regurgitate food for Aster.

And back to the talking. At least the kid wasn't putting any of his body parts in danger now. Jack went back to looking for the hidden watcher making the back of his neck crawl.

"I _wish_ I had my staff," he muttered. A weapon would've made him feel so much better.

Then, just like that, the feeling of being watched went away. He almost jumped, it was so sudden.

Hawkeye, he noticed, twitched an ear. Considering the guy turned into a statue when not speaking, that was... interesting. Well, they said blind people's other senses became better, more finely tuned, to make up for the lack of sight. Maybe he'd heard something. Heck, maybe Jack had heard something, just not well enough to know what he was hearing. Like the mythological brown note.

He smirked, and then frowned at the underbrush. Something was out there. He _knew_ it. Just because it wasn't watching right now, didn't mean it hadn't been. Didn't mean it'd hold off on finding them again.

Aster tugged on his sleeve, and he refocused back on the kid.

"Tarnaske," the kid said. "Sleep. Home. Sleep, home. Yes?"

"Yes," Jack said, and stood up. He looked over at Hawkeye. "Sar-salt?"

Hawkeye laughed at him, and shook his head. "Stay," he said, and tilted his head in Aster's direction. "Tarnaske-" something, "-stay?"

Aster nodded. "Sar- _ult_ stay," he said, emphasizing the pronunciation. Jack just knew he'd keep getting it wrong.

He sighed, and nodded. "Aster, Tarnaske, home," he said, and swung the kid up onto one hip. He gave Hawkeye an abbreviated salute, never mind the blind guy wasn't going to see it. "Talk to you in the morning, guy, you just see if I don't."

Aster touched Jack's chin, and then rested his head against Jack's shoulder. The trip through the forest wasn't a long one; they hadn't been that far away from their shelter when they'd been distracted by the t-rex-kangaroo-beast. Or by the blind archer. It took an hour, maybe a bit more, and by the time they arrived the first stars were out and the sun was just below the horizon.

Jack set the kid down, and stretched. He rose up on his toes and arched his back until his spine popped and cracked. Sounded awful, felt _wonderful_.

Aster, he realized, was mimicking him, and wobbling a bit. He pressed one hand between the kid's shoulders, and grinned. "Can I keep you, kid?"

Aster babbled something at him, and then headed in to the shelter. Jack, with a bit of squirming and contorting- and good thing he'd ended his growth still a runty little thing, or he'd never have fit- followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm kind of annoyed with how short all these chapters are being. Apart from the interludes (between two and four pages), they're not averaging out more than five, five and a half pages in Word. The problem is how the scenes are working out, which, argh. I suppose I make up for it with fast updates, aye?
> 
> Oh. Question time. I'm not that fond of the story title, Journey to the Past. I'm trying to think up something better. That said- would you complain overmuch if I DID change the title? And if so- any suggestions?


	8. Interlude: Discovery

It was a long night, and the first thing I did when I got back to the Workshop was take Jack's staff out of the vault. It hadn't felt right leaving it there, and the feeling only eased up once I had the staff in hand again. Other than North, who did, after all, _live_ in the Workshop, I was the first one there. Not having much interest in the construction of toys, or the baking of numerous sweets, or proper reindeer care, I retreated to the library for a bit of peace and quiet.

North collected books the way obsessive shoppers collected debt. He didn't even read most of them. I'd asked him once, why he did it; surely he had a copy of almost every book ever printed, or at least every book in a European language, from Russian to the Romance languages. Even down to versions done in brail.

"No knowledge is ever wasted, my friend," he'd said in answer. "Besides, have always wanted magic library!"

In other words, he was a bit of a hoarder. At least the place was kept neat by his librarian. I'd never met the spirit, wasn't even sure of its name, but it was some sort of dragon, a dwarf type that had wandered into North's library, found nirvana, and was supposedly convinced it'd died by medieval knight and gone to heaven.

I wasn't too certain about dealing with a dragon, but I hadn't met it yet. Apparently whenever I wandered through it was busy cataloguing the further reaches of North's hoard.

I'd never had cause to borrow a book from the library, or even search out reading material. I like finding my own books, thank you, and keeping them in my own library. I'm hard on the things, cracking spines and foxing pages and getting dirt everywhere. I'm a gardener, and a painter, and sometimes these things just happen.

The library was good for other things too, than just the books. Sturdy chairs with overstuffed cushions, big enough for even me to curl up in and feel small. Large fireplaces big enough to roast oxen in, had the place been a kitchen instead. Views out the large windows of the ice fields and the frozen cliffs surrounding the Workshop. Very cozy, really, so long as the cold stayed on the other side of the glass.

After a minute or two I realized I was all but cuddling Jack's staff, the way he normally did. Kept rubbing my thumb against the healed over break in the wood, too.

I huffed, and curled up tighter on the chair. I hadn't felt this uncertain in a long, _long_ time, and it made me feel young again. I didn't like to think much on that time, the last of my childhood. I missed my people and my culture and my home world something awful, but I'd be the first to admit I'd lived a hard, harsh life. If I could have it all back, but _better_ , I'd have given almost anything for it.

Of course, I'd have given _everything_ to get Tarnaske back...

I shoved the thought away. Tarnaske had been everything to me during what had been the worst time of my life. I still didn't know what she'd been, though as time had gone on, I'd figured out she hadn't been from Gallifrey. Near as I could figure, she'd been some sort of mammalian-like reptile. I remembered she had scales, tiny ones barely bigger than the grains of Sandy's sand, but she'd had patches of fur, too. Pitch Black had probably killed her species, as he'd done to so many others. The human-like Tuatha Dé Danann had been turned into fearlings, but for some reason the less human-like the species, the harder it had been for Pitch to turn them. Pooka he hadn't been able to turn at all, so he'd just killed them.

I looked down at Jack's staff again, and sighed. Jack and Tarnaske, Tarnaske and Jack... She would've been disappointed in me, I knew. Not only because of how I kept poking at Jack, or kept comparing him to her, but because of how I'd gone and isolated myself for almost four centuries. She never would have stood for it, even if I was too big for her to pick up and carry. Certainly she wouldn't have tolerated Jack being alone all those years. If she'd still been around... he might have been my brother.

When we got him back, I'd do better, I decided. It might've hurt to remember my old protector, but it hurt more admitting I was acting the disappointment. I didn't know how I'd make things right, but I'd figure it out. And I'd _do it_ , too.

"Ah, Bunny, there you are!" North skulked over to the corner I'd retreated to, far too quiet for a man his size. "Sandy has arrived, and Tooth has Jack's teeth. Come, let us find him and bring him home."

I huffed at him. "One of these days the yeti will break down and then you'll be covered in bells like them elves of yours."

North rolled his eyes at me. "Come. You first to arrive, last to join. Thought rabbits supposed to be _fast_?"

I wasn't actually a rabbit, but close enough. "Yeah, yeah." We walked side by side down the hallway, making yeti grunt or scowl at us when they had to press back against the walls. The elves, oblivious as ever, I just stepped over. North walked through them, so they bounced off his calves and occasionally got a knee to the eye. Not that they noticed.

"Have you noticed anything, from explosion yesterday?" North asked me. "Is so good not to have knees snap and crack like old tree branch!"

I raised my eyebrows. "Nothing that I've noticed." But with my age, it wasn't like a few centuries off the top would make an impression. Between sleeping all through the Hadean period, orbital bombardment, the Archean period, the Proterozoic, and waking up halfway through the Paleozoic... I wasn't surprised I hadn't gotten noticeably younger.

The Last Light I'd stored deep near the planet's core had done something to me, otherwise I'd have passed away from old age a long, _long_ time ago. When I slept, I didn't age. And up until the humans started spreading out of Africa, I'd only woken up a few times, for a couple days at a time. Most of my life had been spent unconscious. And somehow I was still sane despite this.

North urged me through the doorway first, and I took my seat. I kept hold of Jack's staff, even after I'd set it on the table in front of me.

Sandy smiled at me, and turned away from his conversation with Tooth. She had a golden box in her hands, several fairies- that hadn't changed any in appearance from early yesterday- on her shoulders, and a bit of exhaustion in her eyes.

"Tooth? How you going?"

She shrugged, one wing twitching with the motion. For a second she actually looked surprised, before relaxing. I suppose having her wings change on her was still new. "Alright. We found the teeth!"

The picture on the box didn't look like Jack. Some kid with brown hair and brown eyes, maybe about twelve or so. Not that I was any expert judge of human ages, even after all this time.

"That's Jack?" I frowned, and realized I was gripping the staff tight enough the pads of my fingers ached.

"He changed when becoming spirit, yes?" North asked. He sat down at the table across from me. "So! How we do this? Tooth, you are expert."

"Oh!" She grinned and half-spread her wings. "Simple enough. I just need some chalk, an empty stretch of floor, and Jack's staff."

I frowned, and stared at the staff. "Alright. Now?"

"Now," she said.

North, being him, had all that she needed. The floor ended up in the yeti's dining room, which was big enough to serve as a high school's gymnasium. Better outfitted, of course, and sure as El-Ahrairah's whiskers no gymnasium would have _blood-stained_ banners up on the walls, depicting famous battles. The yeti moved the tables out of the way, though a bunch of them- the young ones, I noticed- looked extremely confused the entire time. Phil, the youngest, seemed to be the only one with any idea of what was going on left. He was the one that urged the yeti out of the room once Tooth had her empty floor.

North produced a stick of white chalk, and handed it over to Tooth. "Do you need us to do anything?"

"Maybe in a bit. It's been a while since I've used this sort of magic, and I could probably borrow some strength."

Right. I nodded; magic's a tricky thing, tied to belief as it is. For as many ankle biters that believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, in magic sand that dropped you to sleep and stars that granted wishes, there were dozens, hundreds more that knew _magic_ \- spells and the like- didn't _really_ exist.

Being a spirit was one thing. Casting a spell was another.

Tooth would have to push her spell through, against the weight of all that disbelief. With our help, letting her borrow our strength, she wouldn't end up collapsing with the effort.

She scrawled four quick circles on the ground; three were small, only five feet across, and at the points of a rough, equilateral triangle. The fourth, larger circle went around the three smaller ones, enclosing them in.

"Alright, Bunny. Put Jack's staff in... that circle."

I did, and frowned. "The ends are poking over, sheila."

"That's fine," Tooth told me. "As long as most of it's in the circle, which it is." She set Jack's tooth box in the second circle, and then moved to stand in the third. "North, have I your permission to borrow of your magic for this spell?"

"Of course," he said, and plucked several hairs from his beard. He grinned at them- because they were black instead of white, I supposed- and then gave them to Tooth. She repeated her question with Sandy, who nodded and gave her several grains of sand.

I gave her a few hairs plucked from my forearm.

That done, a dome of power rose up over the big circle. Tooth spread her wings around the edge of the circle, managing to hide fully half of the inside of the dome. We three moved to stand so we could see despite the feathers.

The staff, I noticed, had somehow gotten a coating of inch thick ice between me putting it down and Tooth starting her spell. The tooth box- was it supposed to glow like that?

Tooth was chanting something, but I- even I- couldn't hear her. All I could make out was a low drone, and even that was barely audible. The box's glow continued to strengthen, until I couldn't look at it directly.

Then the light from the box blazed bright, and the light condensed into a ball that seared my corneas.

I stumbled back, tripped over a bench, and landed on my tail. _Hard_.

At least no one had seen my indignity, since everyone else- well, North and Sandy- were rubbing their eyes to clear them. Tooth was staring off into space, no doubt figuring out what the spell had told her.

She dismissed the circle with a flick of her wings, and folded them back up. "I know where Jack is," she said.

I rejoined the others, and frowned between the tooth box and the staff. The box looked normal. The staff-

Could a stick of wood look _annoyed_?

"Where is Jack?" North asked, Sandy flashing a giant question mark over his head.

Tooth turned and looked at the staff. "He... He's in the staff." She bit her lip. "Jack's spirit is in the staff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue evil laughter here.


	9. Chapter 9

It'd been a little over a month, and still no rescue.

Jack stared at his hands. Wouldn't- wouldn't they have come after him by now? He'd messed up. Sure. He messed up lots of times. It happened, it was his thing, why were they still always so surprised and upset by it? And this time- he'd messed up North's snow globes but good- but wouldn't they still come after him? They always had before.

"I want to go home," he whispered. Where people understood what he was speaking. Where he understood what they said in return. Where he had a home- okay, several homes, scattered about, because he liked to travel, okay? It was part of his schtick as Jack Frost- and friends and co-workers. He missed everybody. He missed his pets.

Only no one had come to get him. Either they couldn't, for some reason, or...

No, Jack reminded himself. Bunny, at least, would want to get Jack away from here. Mr. "Easter '68 set the tone of our relationship and there's no way that's going to change" would not tolerate Jack near his people. Although if this kept up much longer, Jack would have to give serious weight to going back to that village of Aster's... Or finding another village. That might be a better idea. The one Aster came from had those bullies.

He'd have to do something about them. People like that, if they weren't stopped, they got worse. And they were already quite bad enough!

But what, though? He certainly wasn't going to answer their atrocity with like terror. Although...

Aster was with Hawkeye, enjoying the company of another rabbit, one that he didn't feel the need to hide from. Jack wouldn't be long. He'd already gone off on his own, after making it clear to the kid that he was one, supposed to stay behind and two, Jack would return for him. Sulking was better done without company.

Which meant he had time and space with which to work on his little plan...

* * *

In small, pre-industrial villages like this one seemed to be, everyone tended to be related. Cousins of some sort, at the very least. Everyone ended up looking alike, though at the same time enough new blood mixed in, in the form of marriages as some people went off to find work, or because there was an imbalance between the genders, to keep the relationships from getting _too_ close.

Jack had no idea what the four were called. The leader seemed to be the oldest, and even Jack, not of the same species, could tell he was handsome enough. Tall, still plenty young but starting to develop broad shoulders and a narrow waist, long limbs with a good amount of muscle on them. The other three were of varying height, from almost as tall as the leader, to a foot shorter. All four of them were brown, different shades; two were so dark they looked like they'd rolled in soot, while the leader guy was so pale he was almost blond.

You know. If rabbits could _be_ blond.

The four were out in the woods. Looking for something, Jack thought; the one rabbit kept ducking down and studying the ground, as though trying to figure out some tracks. Looking for Aster? The level of attack Jack had interrupted had needed time to get to that point. Which meant Aster was either an acceptable target, or the only target, or... Well, he didn't really get the mindset of the bully. But the four probably enjoyed picking on Aster, and didn't like that he'd escaped their attentions.

Well, they could just _keep_ looking. Jack didn't leave tracks, and now, neither did Aster. So in that, they were safe.

Although leaving the four to look fruitlessly wasn't _exactly_ what he had in mind.

They had frightened and hurt Aster, and who knew what else they were up to? People like that didn't stop with just one victim. They _started_ with one victim. Maybe they weren't tormenting anyone right now- though Jack doubted that, he suspected they all had younger siblings that 'fell down' a lot- that would change. Bullies grew up to become adult bullies; corporate minions that threw their power around because they had it and they could; criminals; abusive husbands and wives.

Jack _hated_ bullies.

There was a memory, one of his first, actually, that he could've gone a few more centuries without getting back. Jack's father had been the kindest, gentlest man in the village, matched only by his brother. Jack's _grandfather_ , however...

It was not a good memory, that was all.

The leader of the group snapped something at the other three, and they headed deeper into the forest.

Jack grinned, wide and feral, and skulked after them.

He followed them all the way to the shelter. At that point, they seemed very nervous, and no wonder. Jack had taken them all out at this place, in under a minute. That sort of thing tended to stick with their kind. Bullies got uncomfortable when they weren't the strongest things in the room anymore.

They had probably avoided the shelter because of what had happened, until now. Either they were desperate, or... Well. He had no idea.

His grasp of the rabbit language wasn't the best, but he figured he could pass on a few things.

It... didn't escape him that he was currently acting the part of that guy who scared bad kids straight. The sort of thing Pitch was _supposed_ to do, but didn't, because he was- to quote a teenager Jack had overheard some years back- a douchnozzel.

"You," he hissed, and exposed every last tooth in his head when they spun to face him. The leader yelped and dodged behind one of the dark-furred rabbits.

"Bad, pretty little bad," he said, stringing three of his new words together. He bobbed his head, a little like a chicken, with every step forward he took. He crooked his fingers into claws, and reached for the nearest of the four.

The middle rabbit, the one neither the leader nor one of the dark furred ones, wailed and dropped to his knees, babbling. He'd wet himself, Jack saw. There wasn't any hiding the disdain he felt, but that was well in keeping with his current act.

That one had shoved Aster away, when Jack had first appeared. To rescue him? Not as bad as the others, at the very least, though still pretty bad.

"Tarnaske eat bad ones," he hissed, and grabbed for the wailing rabbit.

He shrilled, high pitched and terrified, and threw himself backward. Jack caught his foot anyways, and let a little of his frost curl over the rabbit's fur.

"Mine," he snarled, and pulled. "All bad _mine_."

The rabbit he had wailed and sobbed and kicked at him, babbling one word over and over.

One of the dark furred rabbits broke, and ran.

Jack dropped the wailing one's foot, and threw a snowball at the running rabbit. It hit, of course it hit, and it took him very little time at all to drag the dark furred rabbit back, and a bit of circling got them all clustered together.

"Bad, bad," he said again, and grinned like a skull. " _Mine_."

* * *

In the end, he let them run away back to the village. Hopefully they'd gotten the impression that doing _bad things_ had been what led him to them. Certainly they'd be too frightened to leave the village for a good long while- maybe he should watch them? See if they were wreaking a quiet havoc among the younger kids, let them see hints of his presence? Aversion training for giant rabbits?

He liked the idea.

Jack left Aster with Hawkeye the next morning. The kid didn't seem to upset at the idea. Maybe Hawkeye was teaching him something, or maybe it was just being around another of his species. Whatever the reason, it at least meant Jack felt only a little twinge of guilt when he left.

Then he went to spent a supremely boring day watching the village.

There were a few instances where the dark furred boys tripped a few small children, but Jack- with a little concentration and a bit of a headache- spread his frost to a visible patch of wall in full sunlight. The dark furred boys went running off for an adult; by the time they brought one back, the frost had melted and Jack had moved to a new spot to watch from.

Using his frost at a distance didn't normally hurt like this, but normally he had his staff. Even with the odd kink to his powers after Pitch had broken the staff, and Jack had willed it back together, it was infinitely better than working without it. At the end of the first day, he had a pounding headache. Aster seemed to sense it, because he kept quiet all the way to the shelter.

Jack actually _slept_ that night, something he didn't normally do. Drowsing was usually good enough.

Using his power at a distance must have taken more energy than he'd thought.

He woke up late, got Aster fed and dropped off with Hawkeye, and went back to work.

By the third day, he'd seen all four bullies, and they had either seen him, or his frost. The one boy, the one that wasn't the leader and wasn't one of the dark furred ones, seemed almost relieved at the reminder, and stopped shoving the smaller kids around. The dark furred ones kept to minor mischief, but it was starting to shift from malicious to entertaining.

It was the leader that was giving Jack problems. No matter what happened or what he saw, after he'd gotten his bone-headed bravery back, he'd return to subtly making everyone around him miserable. It was entirely possible he wouldn't _ever_ be redeemed.

So Jack kidnapped him.

It was late afternoon, and the kid was on his own. There weren't any adults around, no small children, not even any of the boy's former gang. There was no better time, really.

He didn't actually do much to the kid. Dragged him off to the grotto he'd used initially as a place to sleep, let the kid 'escape', then chased him all the way back to the village. He was done by evening, just in time to pick Aster up from Hawkeye and go back to the shelter.

When he looked in on the village the next day, it seemed to have done the trick. It also seemed to have upset the adults, but they weren't going to have any more luck finding him or Aster than the four bullies had. He wasn't worried.

In retrospect, he should have been.

* * *

"Tarnaske isn't hurting anyone," Aster said. He studied the plant Sarault had given him. "Elderflower," he said.

"And it's for?"

"Um." He bit his lip, and studied the sprig. "Ah? Colds, constipation, um..."

"Hemorrhoids," Sarault said, and grinned. "And impotency. Good to know, should you ever get a mate."

A mate? Aster couldn't imagine ever wanting a mate. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, and set the sprig aside.

Sarault lifted his head, and turned to 'look' over his shoulder. "Ah, the winter wind returns. Lessons must have gone well today, she is well pleased."

Aster huffed, but Tarnaske did step out of the underbrush right where Sarault was indicating. And she did look happy. Tired, but content.

"Tarnaske!" Aster ran across the clearing, dodging Sarault's camp debris, and launched himself into her arms. She whirled around in a circle, and laughed.

"Please, please say you're not going off on your own anymore?" She was the _best_ at moving invisibly, he knew, but he couldn't help but worry. "If anyone sees you..."

"How is that, child?" Sarault asked.

Aster bit his lip. "She looks funny," he said. "And she doesn't talk like us. They'd be frightened, and they're mean when they're frightened."

Sarault chuckled. "The endgame begins," he murmured. "So it is. Well, you'd best go and sleep now. It will be an eventful day tomorrow."

He wasn't going to worry about that. Sarault intended to quiz Aster about the uses of the various herbs, that was all he meant. Nothing had happened, nothing was going to happen. Everything was going to be just fine. He'd worry about a quiz. Nothing more. Nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, new story title! Hope you all like it- it goes along with the series theme, I do hope. Fingers, they are crossed! And now, on to the chapter itself.
> 
> Yes, Jack did work as the Pooka boogeyman, but good luck telling Aster that!


	10. Interlude: Revelations

"No," I said. I cradled the staff in my arms, ears back and the fur on my shoulders bristling. "We're not putting the- we're not putting _Jack_ in that vault of yours, North."

North huffed, and folded his arms. His expression cleared for a moment while he stared at his forearms. They weren't covered in tattoos anymore, and he looked a touch annoyed at that. "Черт. Я должен буду получить их заново." He shook his head, and looked up at me. "Where else can we keep staff?"

" _Jack_ ," I reminded him.

"Bunny," Tooth said. "Neither Sandy or I can take care of it- him. Right," she muttered, and stared at the staff. "Right. And North has work to do. It's almost November-"

"And presents and lists and testing the sleigh, I know," I said. " _I_ can watch him. Not like there's much for me to do until the New Year."

They all blinked at me, and I ducked my head. Not as if I were ashamed! Oh no. I chittered a bit under my breath, and my stub of a tail flicked back and forth.

"Of course you can," Tooth said, flipping her wings to settle them again. "I, well, yes, I suppose that's a solution..." She looked at Sandy and North. I lashed my tail as best as I could.

Sandy nodded, and smiled at me. Well, at least _he_ thought I could handle watching one harmless stick, even _with_ Jack stuck inside it! North looked doubtful.

"We don't even know if watch is necessary," he said.

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But what if Jack's in here and can see what's going on?" I asked, and nodded to the staff in my arms. "Last he needs is to be stuck away in there for who knows how long while we figure out how to fix this."

North sighed, and threw up his hands. "Fine, fine! You win. Take staff- Jack- with you. But be careful of him! If can see from staff, perhaps can hear- or feel. Let us not have injury to him."

What did they think I'd do, stick Jack's staff in a fire or something? "She'll be apples," I said, a touch stiffly. Before they could reply, I thumped open a tunnel. Perhaps a _mite_ bit harder than I had to. I took off down the rabbit hole, letting it close behind me with a snap.

No, Jack and I weren't the closest of companions. That was my fault, not his, and I _knew_ it. And I'd vowed to myself I'd do better, _because_ of what had happened. I'd start with taking care of him as he was now.

I slowed down from my headlong rush through the tunnel, and leaned up against the wall. "It's alright Jack," I told the staff. It felt odd, thinking bright, active Jack was stuck in a bit of wood. "I'll not prop you in a corner or some such nonsense."

Obviously he couldn't reply. I sighed, and resumed my trip home, though at a trudge.

It never took me more than half an hour to get anywhere, going through my tunnels. I'd never had much magic to begin with, but what I had, I'd learnt to use as precisely as a surgeon's scalpel. I'd heard some witches had something similar, back in the day, but their spells had been forest paths and getting around in-country, not all over the world. My magic made it so all my tunnels were one tunnel. I had to go around a lot of corners, but at least it didn't take me all day just to go from the North Pole to my corner of Oz's Outback.

For some reason I'd thought the revelation about where Jack was would change things in the Warren. It hadn't, obviously. There were still trees and my special plants for my googies, grass thick and soft as plush carpet everywhere. Further on in the Warren, towards my burrow, there was a bit of open sky looking out over the Vulkathunha-Gammon Ranges National Park in the Flinders Ranges of South Australia. It was a view I happened to like, and a place where travelers weren't likely to notice, or care about, an odd little cave that led 'nowhere'.

I sighed, and leaned on Jack's staff. On... Jack. I straightened abruptly, and gave it an odd look. "Sorry 'bout that, mate."

Obviously, he didn't answer.

I shook my head, and moseyed through my Warren. I kept up a low murmur as I went, giving Jack a sort of tour as it were. It was only when we reached my burrow that I had to stop and swallow. I hadn't let anyone in here before. Not North, not Tooth, not even Sandy. I'd always... It'd been my dream to bring home a mate- in the romantic sense- before letting friends wander through such a personal part of myself.

Only now I was bringing Jack, trapped in his _staff_ of all things.

I'd had enough broken dreams to not be surprised when one more shattered. It didn't even hurt that much. I must have given up thoughts of romance a ways back without realizing it.

"Right then," I said. "And this is my home proper."

I'd built the home along the lines of the burrows back on Gallifrey. There was a small entry way, to hang cloaks and the like up when they weren't in use, or when they were drying off. Even though my warren was all underground and never got much in the way of weather- all lights were old Pooka technology, set up on a day/night cycle, hidden away in the ceiling to be unobtrusive- I still had a cloak up on one peg for trips above ground. Unlike humans, who needed rubbers for their feet when it got wet, I just slogged through the puddles barefoot, so there wasn't any footwear lined up on the floor. There was a basket of towels, though, for drying off.

The entry way led into the main room, the kitchen, which had last been updated sometime in the fifteen-hundreds. Being a Pooka meant requiring a more varied diet than proper rabbits did, so my kitchen actually saw a fair bit of use. There were boxes of herbs, both potted and growing so I had them fresh, and dried, hung on the windowsills. There was a 'modern', wood fired stove, and an equally 'modern' wood fired oven. There wasn't an ice box, just a cellar, but it wasn't as though I were trying to store meat of any kind.

There was a proper dining room, but I ate in the kitchen. The dining room was set up for, at minimum, eight people or so. The kitchen, with only two chairs and a tiny little table, was much more comfortable for a single person eating alone.

The kitchen let off, not only onto the barely touched dining room, but a sitting room as well. The kitchen might have been the main room, but the sitting room was more like the heart of the place. It was bigger than the kitchen, but only barely, and filled with books. There was some furniture, all old, battered, comfortable pieces I'd picked up here and there, everything from a Victorian fainting couch to a modern La-z-boy recliner. Mostly, though, there were the books, all stacked neatly on shelves built into the walls. _All_ the walls.

I had no 'modern' contrivances, since everything that currently ran on electronics hurt my ears. I could hear the electricity crackling through the wires, even when the dang things were turned off. Maybe when humans came up with a better method to power their entertainment centers, I'd pick something up, or get North to build me something. There were a few movies and TV shows currently offered that I would have _liked_ to watch, but, well, couldn't.

My life didn't revolve _completely_ around Easter, just mostly. At least I was trying to get something of a work-life balance now.

I paused in my little monologue to Jack, and stared at the three doors letting off from the sitting room. One led to what a human would call my bedroom, and I called my nest. The second led to the bathing chamber, which- while done up very, very nicely- wasn't exactly an interesting part of the tour. The third led to _my_ globe, with a tiny room off there that I did my magic in.

My nest and my globe were both... private, even more so than my burrow.

I cleared my throat, and turned away from those doors. "The rest isn't that important," I told the staff. "Now, might be you've noticed everything's all neat and put away tidy. Most bucks wouldn't be this neat, but I never saw reason to wait for a doe to clean up when I have two working hands meself."

And, too, there weren't any surviving Pooka does- or bucks, for that matter, apart from me. Which wasn't the point. The point was, my primary, female influences in my life hadn't been the sort to wait hand and foot on a buck like a fifties housewife. During Ranger training, bucks and does had both been responsible for cleaning their own gear, which had surprised no few members of my gender. Not me, though. Other than the village does I'd lived with for a bit, I'd been raised either by female Rangers, or Tarnaske. And with Tarnaske, we'd lived in the wilderness. Not much to clean there.

I shook my head. "I've got some books on magic," I said. "I'll look through them, I might be able to find something to help."

I propped the staff up against the fainting couch, and started going through my library.

* * *

For the first three days, I left the staff- Jack- propped up against the fainting couch. Sometimes I'd read from the books I perused, and not all of them were pure, technical knowledge. Some of the more interesting spells I'd found had been in _fantasy_ books, of all things, and you never knew what was useful. It didn't hurt that the books were some good yarns, too.

The only problem with leaving Jack in the sitting room was when I went to sleep. I'd spent anywhere from a few minutes to what felt like a few hours worrying about if he'd be bored. Then I'd sleep- and wake up hissing and chittering and all but leaping out of the nest to check on Jack, just in case someone had managed to sneak into the Warren, into my burrow, and... hurt him.

I would then spend the rest of the night drowsing in my recliner, staff cuddled in one arm, trying to get some more sleep.

By the third day I was nodding over my research, and I gave in to what I decided was inevitable. I wouldn't sleep well until Jack was back to himself and not vulnerable anymore. I'd sleep better if I could make sure he was safe and sound. Which meant taking the staff to my nest.

It wasn't as bad as I'd figured. For one thing, the staff didn't frost my blankets. For another, I slept better with the thing in reach.

Things stayed that way for a few weeks, me doing research and sleeping with the staff... Jack... in my nest. I didn't know what the others were doing, but like as not much of the same: research.

I didn't find anything, not even when I started looking in the vaguer and somewhat rambling magical writings.

Tooth arrived early on in the fourth week, looking more aggitated than I'd seen her in a decade. She was losing feathers, even, something that only happened at her most emotional.

"Tooth?" I said, and stood up. She was _in my burrow_ \- but then, I thought, glancing at Jack, that wasn't such an intrusion anymore.

"The spell was wrong," she said.

I snapped around to look at her. "What?"

"The spell. The one I cast to find Jack. It was wrong."

"What?" I said again, louder.

Tooth took a deep breath, and reached down to fumble at a belt pouch. It was only then I realized she was wearing some of her old costume; a belt with several pouches on so she could carry things without having to resort to clothes, which would only be uncomfortable between her feathers and her wings, and would constrict her movement too.

"Here," she said. "I- I did the spell again, to get an exact fix, there was a second spell I was going to cast, but it led me to Burgess, and then one of Jack's believers gave me _this_."

_This_ was a crystalline snowflake, strung on a silver chain. The snowflake could have been made out of glass, or diamond; it wasn't cold to the touch, though it had a _feel_ to my other senses of cold.

"Apparently he _made_ it," Tooth said. "With his power."

Like he used the staff to _channel_ his power. I turned to look at the staff, once more propped up against the fainting couch. "The spell led to...?"

"Jack's not _here_ ," Tooth said, her feathers puffing up. "So it led to the closest _thing_ that felt like him."

The staff. I looked back down at the crystal snowflake.

"I've seen that before," I said. I sounded funny. Tooth gave me an odd look.

"You have?"

"Hold on a tic." I moved towards my nest, one hand on the wall because it felt like the ground was tilting sideways beneath my feet. It wasn't the same. It couldn't be the same. It- I- oh, _El-Ahrairah_.

I found what I was looking for with a minimum of fumbling, and even that was because my fingers had gone numb. It was in a jewelry box, shoved to the back of a drawer so I would maybe stop pulling it out and looking at it at least twice a year. I took the box out to the sitting room, and when I opened it, the lid came off. The hinges hadn't rusted, they'd worn out.

"Bunny?" Tooth moved closer, and I held the box out.

There was a crystal snowflake in it. It had been meant to go on a chain or string, but it had broken into three, four pieces, including the loop the chain would have gone through. It wasn't exactly the same as the one Tooth held, but it had the same _sense_ of cold without actually _being_ cold. The exact same sense; the same hand had made both snowflakes.

"Where... Where did you get this?" Tooth asked. "When did Jack...?"

"It wasn't Jack," I said, voice shaking. "Or at least, that's not the name..." El-Ahrairah. Jack- Jack was- and that meant he- and...

I sat down on the couch, seconds before I fell. "He's not coming back," I whispered.

"Bunny! If you know where he is, then-"

I held up one hand. "My _childhood_. He's back during my childhood." _Tarnaske_. "He... He won't... This was... a parting gift. Before they..."

And then I broke down and cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No end note today.


	11. Interlude: Resolution

Tooth let me cry myself out. It didn't take long; I was out of practice. It took a lot of skill to cry without getting your nose stuffed up and your stomach twisted into so many knots you got physically sick. It took me five minutes to get to the point where I couldn't breathe, and at that point I _had_ to calm down.

I resented it, the necessity of shoving down my physical reaction to my grief. Doing so let me think again, though.

Jack was Tarnaske. Tarnaske had been... I shook the thought away, and another one sprang up in its place.

"Tooth," I said slowly. "Do you think... If you could change the past, would you?"

* * *

Shape shifting wasn't the easiest thing out there, even though every Ranger learnt to do it. It all depended on how close to your original form you were staying, or how distant you were trying to get. The best shape shifters could appear to change classes, being avian or reptilian in all ways but DNA. I hadn't ever been that good and even the additional years of practice hadn't made me any better. I could hold the change longer, but that just went with more pain.

Still, the closer to my original shape, the easier the change was. My chosen disguise was _very_ close. I'd be able to hold it for months without issue, though hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

With my disguise in place, now I turned to the hard part.

El-Ahrairah's Pathways belonged in the realm of forbidden magic. It wasn't for mortals to go back and mess with what had already happened. That sort of thing always had knock on effects, and I couldn't say I was all too fond of erasing myself from existence.

But for Jack, Tarnaske, I would do it.

I drew the knife across my palm. The blade was sharp enough I barely felt any pain, at least until the blood welled up.

Then, with my blood and my magic, I opened the pathway beyond the world's end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Making up for the interlude that was too long to be a real interlude last chapter, here. Have a real interlude.


	12. Chapter 12

Aster frowned, and tugged on Tarnaske's sleeve. "Something's wrong," he said. "There's someone talking to Sarault."

Tarnaske froze, and stared off towards the archer's camp. She made a low sound in her throat, and urged him off the faint trail they'd been using. They crept along towards the camp. Aster utilized every bit of skill he'd learnt in staying quiet, while Tarnaske might as well not have been there at all.

Aster concentrated on listening in on the conversation, but the people talking had such a heavy accent he couldn't make out one word in twenty. Was this how Tarnaske felt, learning a new language? If so, he suddenly felt very much in awe, because it was incredibly frustrating. It hadn't even been five minutes and already he wanted to throw a fit.

They stopped at the edge of the clearing, and looked in, very, very carefully.

Only soldiers wore armor, or carried swords. There were fifteen of them, none of them shorter than seven feet, all of them gray furred and muscled. They were all, Aster knew, bucks, though he wasn't sure what exactly made him think that. Only that does tended to be lithe rather than bulky? Their armor was the best he'd seen, even going back to his time with his parents, and the swords were works of art.

The person talking with Sarault was a doe, barely any taller than Tarnaske was, with black fur. Her eyes were a pale gray, and instead of armor she wore an odd, wrap-around shirt a little like Tarnaske's, and a knee length skirt. She had a sword, but it wasn't a big, heavy broadsword like the bucks carried, it was a skinny length of metal. Sharp, though, Aster had no doubt about _that_.

Now that he wasn't concentrating on moving quietly, now that they were close enough that another foot forward and they'd be visible, Aster could make out what the doe was saying. It wasn't easy, and it seemed almost like she'd learnt the Valley Tongue very late because she kept putting the words in the wrong order, but he could understand her.

"Home, you will come," she said. Aster wondered how many times she'd said it before, but she didn't sound impatient. "Your expertise needed is. By my side, I wish you be. _Please_ , Sarault."

Sarault shook his head. "You know I can't do that, Karin. I cannot unsee what has been seen. I cannot unmeet who has been met."

The doe, Karin, gripped the hilt of her sword. " _Met_. Met your winter end, you have?"

"The one I have predicted has arrived." He lifted his chin, blind eyes somehow focused on Karin's face.

Aster looked to the side at Tarnaske. Sarault could believe what he wanted. Tarnaske _protected_ people.

"Where is prophecy creature?" Karin asked.

"I will not tell you. Your actions would only hasten the winter of our species."

"Winter I kill will do." The doe stood straight, every inch the proud warrior.

Aster's breath caught in his throat, half in admiration, half in sudden fear. He had to get Tarnaske out of here. And away from their shelter, there was no way Ukiah and his friends didn't know Aster would stay there if at all possible. They had to go, far, far away from Bunnymund village, and only then would Tarnaske be safe.

"You cannot," Sarault said.

Karin growled, actually growled, and stalked forward until she loomed over Sarault. It only worked because he was sitting down, and even then the top of his head was even with her shoulder. She grabbed a handful of his chest fur, and tugged. "You _will_ tell me."

Tarnaske half-moved, as though to go out and stop Karin. Aster caught her elbow, and shook his head when she looked down at him. She couldn't go out there! They- they wouldn't believe she was harmless, they'd only see all her differences, and- and they'd kill her!

Tarnaske growled, but subsided.

The doe's ears twitched, and she turned to look in their direction.

"Oh no," Aster whispered. "Tarnaske, we've got to run!"

Sarault stood up, and moved to stand between the doe, and their hiding place. "No, Karin."

Aster tugged on Tarnaske's arm. "We have to go!"

Tarnaske growled again, then looked to the side, her eyes suddenly wide and worried.

Aster looked; the soldiers were moving.

"Hide!" he urged Tarnaske. "I can distract them. Go!" He shoved at her, then jumped forward, out of the cover of the bushes.

"Hey!" he yelled. "You, the doe! Leave Sarault alone!"

One of the soldiers grabbed his arm, and Tarnaske attacked.

Aster was flung to the side, and he only missed landing in the still smoking remains of the fire by a few inches. Tarnaske shrieked, and the soldier that had thrown him yelped.

Aster sat up, and gasped. Tarnaske was a fury, a nightmare, a long dagger made out of ice in each hand. The blades were already tipped in red, blood, and several soldiers were backing away, clutching their wounds.

Tarnaske hissed, spun in a quick circle, and then threw one of her ice daggers to the side. A soldier went down, the knife sunk to the hilt in his thigh.

But numbers were telling. Tarnaske made a new dagger, but it was only half the length of the first one. Too busy? Aster didn't know, but she _was_ getting hit, even if it wasn't yet by a sword blade. Punches and kicks occasionally got through her defense, though they were only glancing blows.

"Tarn-" A hand clapped over his mouth. Aster clawed at the enemy's wrist- and whoever it was, _was_ an enemy! Only their fur was thick and he couldn't scratch hard enough to hurt. They weren't letting go.

"Catch it!" the doe yelled, right in Aster's ear. Oh, that's who'd grabbed him.

Sarault lunged across the fire. "Karin, stop this madness!"

She kicked him, hard, in the breastbone. Aster _heard_ the snap, _saw_ Sarault double over clutching his chest. The archer fell down, and didn't get up.

Karin sobbed, and lifted Aster up off his feet. He flailed, but she was stronger than she looked.

Tarnaske barked and hissed, but when Aster looked over... She'd been caught. She'd been _caught_. Two soldiers held her by the arms, and another stood behind her, hands gripping her fur. Her eyes looked a little unfocused, she'd probably been hit in the head, Aster couldn't imagine why she wasn't freezing them with a touch like she could normally do.

Karin passed him over to another soldier, and said something in a language that wasn't Valley Tongue, and wasn't Mountain either. At least not the bits and pieces of Mountain that Aster knew. The soldier replied in the same language, and held tight to Aster's arms, hard enough to bruise.

Tarnaske snarled, and struggled against the soldiers holding her, but she couldn't get free.

Aster whimpered, and his ears fell back. No. This- this wasn't happening! Tarnaske would do- _something_ \- and get away and she'd rescue him and no one was going to hurt her!

Karin drew her sword. "Predict Sarault did the end you would bring," she said, and pointed the tip of the sword at Tarnaske's nose. "Prevent such a thing I will do. Save the world, I must do. Sorry I am, but necessity this cruelty is."

Aster couldn't look away. "Do something," he whispered. Tarnaske just _stared_ at Karin, why wasn't she _doing_ something?

Karin lifted the sword up, and Tarnaske didn't look away.

Karin brought the sword down.

Aster had forgotten about Sarault. Or no, he hadn't forgotten, but it'd been clear the buck wasn't going to get up again. Only then he did get up.

He flung himself forward, between Karin and Tarnaske, and the sword bit deep into his back. Sarault arched away from the sword, but there was no escaping it, and he was cut almost in half before anyone could blink.

Karin dropped her sword and backed away. She was shaking.

Tarnaske growled and wrenched one arm free, and caught Karin's attention again. The doe screeched, and launched herself at Tarnaske.

Tarnaske did- something- and then she was free, and Karin fell to her knees. And then she fell over, onto Sarault's body.

She didn't get up.

Tarnaske turned towards the soldier holding Aster, but the others were faster than she was. They piled on her.

Aster closed his eyes.

The soldiers spoke in their odd gabble, and then the one holding him lifted him up and slung him over one shoulder like a sack of grain. The soldier started walking, and Aster didn't have the energy to care about where they were going, or what would happen when they got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, what happens now? Well... If I'm right, I think what happens now is something to do with sleep, work the next morning, maybe food somewhere in there...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See if you can spot the E. Aster Bunnymund, adult, in the chapter!

The storage shed was sturdy enough to keep one twelve-year-old jack captive, no matter how Aster struggled. He pounded at the door and walls until the sides of his hands bled from the splinters. He kicked when he couldn't use his hands anymore, until he had to give up and limp to the center of the shed. He'd probably broken a toe; his foot hurt enough for it.

Aster's hands shook with a combination of fear and exhaustion. Bunnymund Village; if only he hadn't been trapped in the shed! He knew every corner of the village, from running away from the bullies. He could've easily snuck around until he found Tarnaske, and then he could've rescued her and they could've run.

Instead...

He shook his head. No! No, it wasn't over yet. Tarnaske was still alive. Apparently none of the soldiers were willing to kill her until given the order. The doe, Karin, was injured and unconscious. Tarnaske would be left alone- tied up, locked away, but _alive_ \- until Karin woke up.

Or until someone else showed up.

He crouched down. Was that likely? The soldiers had spoken of an Aisel, something about him 'not being happy about this', but that didn't tell him anything.

How had these soldiers known about Tarnaske? Or- was it only that they'd followed Sarault over here? He fisted his hands in the fur at his temples, and _yanked_. He didn't know! Did it matter considering what had happened? Sarault was... You couldn't _survive_ wounds like that. Even if the blood loss and shock didn't end you, having your spine _severed_ like that was just... horrible.

Sarault was dead.

Aster sat properly now. The blind archer had been a friend, one of the first friends he'd ever had. He'd been nice, and he'd taught Aster a bit about herbs, and he'd been a little weird, and he'd said some things about Tarnaske that Aster didn't agree with, but... But he'd been a _friend_.

And now he was gone.

Tears wouldn't help. They wouldn't bring Sarault back. Aster would just have to be strong. He could do that. Besides, Sarault... Sarault would want Aster to help Tarnaske. He'd said stuff about that, how Aster would one day have to be the strong one. Aster couldn't remember the exact wording, but he was pretty sure that was what the archer had meant.

So, now he had to figure out _how_ to help Tarnaske.

Aster slumped over on his side, and closed his eyes. He'd think the same with his eyes open or closed. His ears would tell him if anyone approached the shed.

Without realizing it, he fell asleep.

He woke up at the sound of light, almost silent footsteps. He scrambled up, and backed away from the door until his shoulders pressed against the back wall of the shed.

The door opened, and the light was bright enough to make him squint. There were two people in the doorway, one shorter, the other taller. The shorter one entered first, and the taller one shut the door behind him when he entered.

Aster's eyes adjusted to the changed light level. The shorter person, the doe, Karin, had brought a lamp.

And what a lamp! It wasn't the common, Valley construction of metal, oil, and hemp wick, no, this was a Mountain lamp! It was metal and glass, and the silver-blue ball of light inside the contraption burnt without fuel or any flickering, and wouldn't be put out by wind or water. He stared at it. He remembered those lamps, from when his parents had been alive, but they'd been rare treasures.

He looked back at Karin. She just carried a Mountain lamp around like it was nothing?

She seemed a bit worse for wear, after the fight. Her throat and shoulders had been shaved, and a long incision, and stitches, showed clearly against her pale skin. It was already healing. It had to have happened last night, so why was it already at a stage where she didn't need bandages?

"Rangers are taught shape shifting," the other person said. Aster looked over at him. "Lady Karin has great skill to urge her body's repair so quickly without further harm."

Aster made a face at the other person. Whoever it was, they seemed content to keep to the shadows in the corner. Aster suspected the person was a buck, simply from height and what little body shape was visible. They had very broad shoulders, and a narrow waist; does just didn't look like that.

"Aster of Bunnymund," Karin said. She sounded a little hoarse, which Aster supposed was only to be expected. Someone had done surgery on her throat, after all. "Questions of you I will ask. Answers you will give."

"You can't make me tell you anything!"

The doe stared at him, long and level and it made the fur on the back of his neck stand on end. "Make you, I could, very painful."

"No torture," the strange buck snapped. "Now listen, jack..." The buck paused, and sighed. "Listen. The more you tell us, the better decision we can make. Just what is that... that thing you were staying with? And why were you staying with it at all?"

Aster chittered at the buck.

"Chrysanthos," Karin said. "I lead. You follow."

The buck shoved away from the corner, and stepped into the circle of light. He looked like a half-breed, like Aster; unlike Aster, the buck's fur was pale brown, practically golden, and his eyes were dark gray. He had a few patches of white on him; his clan markings, which were Valley ferns, like Aster's, and then a few more patches that looked like old scars.

"No offense, but you're one half of a broken pair," the buck said. "If you're not dead by sunset I'll finish you myself."

Aster shivered. "You were... paired with Sarault?" he asked. "But you killed him!"

Karin hissed at him, at the buck, and didn't answer.

"It's worse for Mountain folk," the buck said. "Don't know why. Valley folk can keep their sanity if a pairing shatters, Mountain folk can't. She's no good to anyone now." He lifted his chin, and all but sneered at the doe. "Now, jack. You'll be dealing with me from here on. Might as well call me Chrys, keep things short and simple."

Aster wouldn't call him anything. "I'm not talking to you with her in the room," he said, finally, jerking his chin in Karin's direction.

"Fair enough," the buck said. He looked at Karin. "Out."

Karin bristled. "You cannot-"

" _You_ have no more authority! Aisel will be here by evening at the latest. When _he_ arrives I'll be second to him, but until that moment not only do I outrank you, but I can do whatever I want to you. _Out_."

The doe trembled, and then threw the lantern down. The glass shattered, and the metal bent some, but the light remained steady.

The door slammed shut behind her.

The buck sighed, and picked up the lantern. He set it to one side, on a shelf high up on the wall. "So. What would you like to tell me?"

Aster clenched his fists. "If you hurt Tarnaske, I'll not rest until I've hunted you down and _hurt_ you!"

Chrysanthos frowned at him. "That's not helping your case."

Aster shook his head. "You don't _care_ what she's like, only how she looks! It doesn't matter what I say because you'll just kill her!"

To his shame, he realized he was crying. He swiped at the tears, and looked down, away from the buck.

Chrysanthos sighed. "Jack, I care. We're half-breeds, aye, you and I? Such as we aren't welcome among the pure, not even when we've made ourselves useful. Maybe no one else will give you a proper hearing, but I, at least, will. So, tell me."

Aster looked up at that. "But- but you're a Ranger."

"I don't get to scout for the wars. I get scut jobs of going to villages to administer to complaints. 'My neighbor went and stole some of my baked tarts' and 'the doe's shameless and has five bucks all in a pother over her'. But when there's something dangerous!" He laughed, but there wasn't any humor in it. "Well, that's when they decide I could be useful after all. _Tommy this and Tommy that and Tommy go away, but it's 'thankee Mr. Atkins' when the guns begin to play_."

Aster frowned. "I've never heard that saying before." Guns? There hadn't been actual guns on Gallifrey since... since so long he'd only heard of them in fireside tales, and that rarely.

"My mother quoted it, a lot." Chrysanthos folded his arms. "Come on, jack, just tell me your story. I can't say as it'll help with your... friend... but it can't hurt, either."

Aster chewed on his bottom lip. "My parents are dead," he said, finally. "They told me I couldn't live with my aunts and uncles, the other Rangers, I had to live with my mother's family. She came from here, this village, but no one would claim me, so the tavern-keeper took me in."

It took some time to tell Chrysanthos everything, from the four bullies slow escalation to Tarnaske's rescue, to living in the wilderness and then meeting Sarault.

"I don't believe him, what he said about Tarnaske," he said finally. "She's- yes she can do things with ice, but she's not... she's not mean. She wouldn't want to hurt _anyone_ if they left her alone."

The buck nodded, and stared at the Mountain lantern. "I believe you," he said, once the silence had stretched on. "Not that my opinion matters. Still, Aisil is said to listen to such as you and I, so perhaps my word might mean something to him."

"What- what do you mean?" Aster stepped forward. "Tell me!"

"These villagers are saying your Tarnaske is a monster from beyond the stars." Chrysanthos looked at him, not without sympathy. "Calling her a- a fearling. Apparently some of the older jacks have been telling stories about an ice monster in the woods."

Aster ducked his head. "They started it," he muttered.

"Again, I believe you. Come on, we'll get you fed, watered, cleaned up. Aisil will be here soon. He'll sort things out."

Would he? Aster followed Chysanthos, for lack of anything else to do. He could have refused to leave the shed, but- he was hungry, and thirsty, and felt grimy. "Can I see Tarnaske?"

"No."

Chrysanthos kept an eye on Aster the entire afternoon, even during the bath. The soldiers had taken over the tavern. Aster suspected Tarnaske was locked up in the cellar. It meant, at least, he didn't have to see any of Drumlin or his family. He didn't feel guilty about running away, but, well, he was warrior stock. And he'd run away from his problems.

Only... Only that didn't feel exactly right. When did a retreat in the face of a superior enemy become cowardice?

He didn't know. And he didn't feel like asking any of the soldiers, or Chrysanthos.

Karin was there the entire afternoon, skulking on the edges. Aster watched her, when he could. The villagers, already looking skittish and more or less hiding away in their burrows, drew back when she walked by. The soldiers ignored her. Chrysanthos just glared whenever he caught sight of her.

The apparently important Aisil arrived only a little after mid-afternoon, riding a chirra. Normally the creatures were farmed for their wool, which was the softest stuff found anywhere in the world, except maybe a newborn's fluff. Chirra didn't like being ridden, and they were horribly difficult to train, but this one seemed content enough with a rider on its back.

Karin slunk forward, done up fancy. She wore her loose shirt and her skirt, and then several armlets and bracelets and necklaces in gold. "Brother," she said, and knelt down. Aisil- surely that's who it was- reined his chirra to a halt, and dismounted.

He was like a taller, male version of Karin. He had black fur and pale gray eyes, and he wore a great kilt that had been dyed pale cream. The clan embroidery was done in dark red, the color of blood.

"Sister," he said, and narrowed his eyes.

"Brother, your permission I to die ask."

"State your reasoning."

"Dead, my partner and pair is." She looked up. "I would follow him."

The buck nodded. "Your request is granted."

All of a sudden it seemed the village streets were swarming with soldiers. The few villagers out watching what was going on were chased into burrows, and it didn't seem to matter if the villager belonged to that burrow or not. Aster counted noses; there were four soldiers missing, still back in the tavern guarding Tarnaske, he suspected.

One of the soldiers looked at Aster, but Chrysanthos placed one paw on his shoulder. "The jack stays. He should see this."

_This_ was apparently a ritual suicide. Karin remained kneeling, and accepted the sword one of the soldiers gave her. It was short, and narrow; her sword, Aster realized. She drew the blade, and held it horizontal to the ground.

Then she reversed the sword so the point was towards her, and stabbed herself through the stomach.

It was so fast Aster didn't realize what had happened until after the bloody point jutted out from her back. He jerked in Chrysanthos' hold, though he didn't know what he'd do if he got free. Run to her? Run away? Throw himself down on the ground and cry? This was the second death he'd witnessed now, in two days- or it could have only been one very long day, he wasn't sure.

He shook. He trembled like a leaf, unable to look away, unable even to blink, as Aisil drew his own sword and beheaded Karin.

The soldiers nearest the two stepped forward, gathered up the body- and severed head, a corner of his mind gibbered- and walked around the corner of the tavern and out of sight.

Aisil wiped his sword off, and looked over at Aster and Chrysanthos. "Now, to the rest of business," he said.

Chrysanthos bowed his head.

They returned to the tavern. Aster was shoved into a corner by the empty fireplace. He huddled there, aware of people talking, people coming in and walking out, more people standing around- guarding? Maybe- but it didn't quite register. He knew they were there, he knew they were talking, but he just couldn't focus.

All he could see was Karin doubled over, sword point poking up out of her back, her expression so calm she might have been in a trance while Aisil lifted his sword to behead her.

He couldn't make himself stop seeing it. It wouldn't go away. It was horrible and _it wouldn't go away_.

"Aster. Aster. Aster!"

He looked up. Chrysanthos frowned at him, but it seemed worried rather than angry. "Aisil is going to make a judgment on your Winter Smith now."

"I want to see her," he whispered.

"You will." The buck tugged at his shoulder until he stood, and then urged him out the door.

The villagers were already gathered in the village square. There wasn't much room, but they all squeezed back to give Chrysanthos and Aster space to walk to the front of the crowd. The villagers all seemed desperate not to touch either half-breed. Aster couldn't bring himself to care. They had never liked him. This was just more of their disdain.

They reached the front of the crowd.

Despite being called the village square, the space wasn't in the middle of the village- or not exactly. The burrows had been half built, half dug on two sides of the square, while the public buildings like the tavern and the guild hall had been built on the third side. The fourth side was open to the fields for the chirra herds and moa deer. The square wasn't a square, either; it was more of a rough oblong.

Aisil stood with his back to the fields, ten of the soldiers lined up behind him. Chrysanthos urged Aster up so he stood to one side of the Mountain Pooka, several feet away from the soldiers.

The crowd of villagers drew back even more from a knot of five soldiers that walked through from the tavern. Tarnaske was in the middle of the knot.

Aster gasped. She didn't look good at all. Her blue shirt was wet, where it wasn't covered in dried blood. Her blue eyes were glassy, so the blood must have been hers. Two of the soldiers had her by the arms, and they seemed to be carrying her more than leading her.

They brought Tarnaske to just in front of Aisil, and then shoved her to her knees.

The Mountain Pooka stared at her, and muttered something in a language Aster didn't recognize, not even a little bit.

Tarnaske looked around, all too clearly unsteady even off her feet, and then caught sight of Aster. She gasped, and then she smiled, the expression somehow happy and reassuring even with the blood covering her front and the armed soldiers around her.

"Tarnaske!" Aster lunged forward, but Chrysanthos caught him before he'd gone a full step. He sobbed and hit at the older half-breed's hands, but to no avail. "No, you- you have to let me go, look at her! She's hurt, she needs me!"

"Enough!" Chrysanthos pulled him back, and wrapped an arm around Aster's stomach. "Enough! I've spoken to Aisil. I've done what I can, now you be silent!"

Aster would have kept struggling, except Tarnaske shook her head at him. He sobbed again, and went limp in Chrysanthos' hold.

Aisil had turned to look at him; now he looked back at Tarnaske. "This is no fearling," he said, "My people have fought them before. But one of their ilk... possible. Very possible." He drew his sword, and pressed the tip against Tarnaske's cheek.

Aster flinched on her behalf. The Mountain Pooka dragged his sword point against her cheek, just hard enough to draw blood.

"It is red," he declared, and looked out over the gathered villagers. "So it is not related to the fearlings from outside our world. However, I have heard all you have to say. This creature might not be fearling-born, but it _is_ a predator!"

"No," Aster whispered, and started to struggle.

Aisil lifted his sword high. "So I make my judgment!"

"No!"

"This creature will die! Here, and now!"

" _No_!"

"Be _silent_ , jack!" Chrysanthos hissed.

Aster clenched his eyes shut and howled.

Something sharp and painful sank into his leg. He jerked, looked down, and gapped at the small throwing knife sunk to the hilt in his thigh.

Tarnaske screeched.

He was distracted, immediately, from the pain.

Tarnaske was a whirlwind of violence and fury. She didn't have ice blades, or if she did she didn't hang onto them long, but he thought he saw _claws_...

She tore into the soldiers like they were untrained civilians. One minute she'd been in the middle of them, the next, she was out behind them and running towards Aster, face twisted up in fury.

It wasn't that easy. Chrysanthos made sure Aster couldn't get free to get to her. The other soldiers crowded in at her. Aisil had his sword, and he was close enough he probably could have grabbed the back of her shirt.

At least, he _was_ that close, until she spun around and jump kicked him in the face. Then he staggered back several steps.

Aster clawed at Chrysanthos' wrist, and then, finally, bent over and _bit_ it. The older half-breed didn't even notice. He pulled the knife out of Aster's thigh with his other hand, then wrapped a long strip of rag around the wound and tied it off.

"You'll have a scar to brag about, but it'll heal up nice and fast. Clean blade, so you shouldn't get an infection."

Aster growled, and reached over his shoulder to claw at Chrysanthos' face.

Tarnaske ducked out from under a falling soldier, paused half a second, and looked at Aster.

Aster looked at Tarnaske.

Chrysanthos tightened his grip around Aster's waist.

Well, that made things easier, actually. Aster let the older half-breed carry all of his weight, lifted his legs up in front of him, then brought them down and back. Right into Chrysanthos' groin.

Chrysanthos dropped to the ground. Aster wiggled free of him, and ran towards Tarnaske.

She caught him up, hissed at the soldiers, and pressed something into his hands. "Astier," she said, and pressed a rough kiss to his forehead. "Love. Go!"

Then she shoved him away.

He stumbled back, and landed on his tail, hard. The soldiers grabbed Tarnaske, and it was like the fight just went out of her. She struggled a bit, but it was without strength, and then she just sagged down. Like she was a puppet with cut strings.

"Jack." Chrysanthos touched Aster's shoulder. "I'll take care of this. I'll... I'll make sure it's fast, and that it's not a spectacle."

Then he walked forward and spoke to Aisil. The Mountain Pooka seemed to be listening, and finally, nodded. Chrysanthos nodded back, tucked the throwing knife into an empty holster on his belt, and walked over to where the soldiers were holding Tarnaske.

"That was the last hurrah, gentle-bucks," he said. "I'll go and... Lord Aisil wants you on crowd control."

The soldiers handed Tarnaske to Chrysanthos. Aster was grabbed by the arm before he could stand up, one of the soldiers hauling him to his feet like he was a sack of grain. Or a criminal.

Aisil looked over at Aster. "Soldier. See that jack is enrolled in warrior training. Perhaps, with loyalty directed properly, he will be useful."

The soldier nodded, and dragged Aster after him. The young Pooka looked back, and saw Tarnaske being dragged out to the field.

It didn't seem very long after that when Chrysanthos entered the tavern, and placed a bloody knife on the table in front of Aisil.

Aster retreated to his old spot in the kitchen, made up a pallet for himself and laid down with his back to the room. There was a soldier on the exterior door, and another on the interior door. There would be no running away tonight.

Only then did he look down at what he'd been given.

It was a crystal snowflake, done up so it could be hung on a chain.

He began to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you see him?


	14. Chapter 14

It was dark, and he was alone. He had memories, vague impressions of someone tending him- feeding him. Soup, mostly. Broth, heavy with the taste of root tubers Aster had introduced him to and spices he didn't recognize.

He tried to move, to see where he was, but-

 _Ach du heiliger Strohsack_! He hurt!

Jack clenched his eyes shut, and waited for the pain to subside. It always did. He just had to wait.

Just... had to...

It was dark, and he was alone. It didn't matter; Jack drifted on a sea of painlessness, a fog of, of painlessness. He'd drunk some soup and now he thought he might want to live after all.

The sea rose up and the fog swallowed him down.

It was dark, but he wasn't alone. Jack kept his eyes closed and his breathing even. He didn't feel any drugs clouding his mind, or at least not enough to be concerned about. It felt like he'd slugged down half a mug of mead, but no worse, and certainly not the _full_ mug. He hurt, but it wasn't the all-encompassing pain that had made thinking difficult, never mind breathing. Instead of everything from his toenails to his hair hurting, the pain was centered in his chest, which was much better in his opinion.

He strained his ears, and listened to the quiet sounds of someone moving about, the equally quiet sound of a coal fire burning. He smelt the coal smoke, and then something roasting. His stomach clenched, but didn't make any noise.

"Awake, are you?"

English! Jack's eyes snapped open, and it was lucky for him that the light was at a very low level. The illumination seemed to come only from the coal fire, which meant it was a little better than a bed of embers, but not much. Didn't help that some stuff had been set up between Jack and the fire, leaving him in shadow.

"Heh, I thought so." Someone- big, long ears, broad shoulders- moved into Jack's view. The dim light made it all but impossible to make out any details. It wasn't Bunny, and it wasn't Aster. That was all he could tell.

"Who-?"

Wow, his throat was dry and his voice was hoarse. Talking _hurt_.

"Here." A large hand helped him tip his head up. A wooden cup was held to his lips. "Slowly, mind."

Water. The stuff of life. And so much more important for Jack than, say, a human. Not his fault, and not his decision; it was part and parcel with the whole elemental of ice and snow thing. A human could go three days without water, Jack could manage, at best, one and a half. That was something he never wanted to have to do ever again, even if it _had_ gotten him one of the better friends he'd ever made.

He drained the cup with a sip every three seconds, and bit back a whimper when his helper pulled the cup away.

"Don't you worry, I'll get you some more."

More? Well, that was alright then.

There were five more cups of water to drink, and when he'd gotten the last drop, Jack felt a lot more human.

"Who are you?" he asked, sounding like himself again. And hey, talking wasn't painful anymore.

His helper shook his- her? It was impossible to tell gender at the moment- head. "That doesn't matter much right now. How do you feel?"

"Better than last time I was awake. I need a name."

Maybe his helper looked at him. Maybe not. "Don't you have one already?"

Jack narrowed his eyes. The person was _laughing_ at him. "That's it, I'm calling you Bob."

"Bob?"

"After my bobcat."

He thought the person- Bob- huffed at him. "You have a bobcat?"

Jack shook his head. "I like animals. Where are we? Why aren't I-?" Memory returned like a blow from a steel rod. Getting captured. Being dragged out in front of everyone, and the fight. _Aster_. Jack had known it was hopeless, but he'd done his best anyways. All he'd been able to do was give the kid a talisman he'd made between bouts of unconsciousness.

The talismans did things, he was sure, but he didn't know what. He'd given Jamie one a few months earlier, so at least he hadn't had to figure out how to make one while dealing with blood loss.

Jack sat up, and never mind the sudden increase in pain. "What did you do?"

He wasn't strong enough to sound any more than mildly annoyed. Hopefully his glare looked scarier than, say, a wet and bedraggled kitten.

"Made some stew. It'll fill you better than the soup. Here." His helper- Bob, now- gave Jack a wooden bowl, filled two thirds of the way up with, yes, stew. It was vegetable, but Jack wasn't going to complain. He hadn't eaten meat in a little over three hundred years, and he never had been picky about his meals.

Jack glared at the bowl.

"If you eat, I'll tell you what's been going on."

Well... Jack tested the stew's temperature, and it was cold enough to eat with his fingers. He scooped up a boiled tuber, and raised his eyebrows. "Sounds fair," he said, and ate the bite.

Bob might have smiled. He settled down at the foot of Jack's bed. Pallet, rather, but it amounted to more or less the same thing. "Everyone figures you're dead."

Jack paused mid-chew. "Aster thinks I'm dead?" he said.

For some reason, that made Bob pause. "Yes," he said. "I'm sorry, but he had to."

" _Why_?" Aster was such a clingy little thing, as hungry for affection as Jack. There was no reason to torment the poor kid that way! He'd be traumatized!

"Because it'd already happened." Bob sighed. "You're not in your time, Jack. You're in the past."

"Hold up. What?" In the past? "How does that even work?"

Had it been the snow globes? All of them breaking at once? North's snow globes _had_ to do things to create portals the way they did. _Everyone_ knew portal magic involved both space _and_ time.

"Next time," Bob said, and caught the bowl when it tumbled out of Jack's hands. "You just rest up."

Jack blinked at him, and when he woke up, he was alone.

He rolled over and went back to sleep.

Bob wasn't always there when Jack woke up, but he was most of the times. Jack _knew_ he explained things, over and over, but something had affected his memory and the things Bob told him didn't stick past the first hour of sleep. He thought it was just a side effect of being injured so badly, and Jack thought- he was sure he was still being given painkillers, though lower doses. So that couldn't help either.

It worried Bob though, that was obvious. Even when Jack was having difficulty remembering who Bob was, it was clear the guy was concerned over Jack's memory.

"We're going to have to get you back home," Bob said, enough times Jack actually remembered it. "You won't recover proper on _this_ stuff."

He must have meant the painkillers. They worked, but... Jack was starting to feel... odd.

He didn't know how long it had been, but after a bit, Bob took Jack outside.

Jack blinked, first, at where he'd been recovering. It was the same tumble of rocks as he'd been living in with Aster. The same on the outside, at least; the only obvious change was a bigger entrance. The inside had been made much bigger, and that coal fire added in.

Then he looked at Bob.

"You!" Bob was the guy who'd dragged him away from the village! Pale brown fur, dark gray eyes, way too big for Jack to fight, injured as he was.

"Me." Bob sighed. "Jack... Just hold up a minute, alright? I saved your life."

Well... yes. Jack nodded at that. "Alright, what now?"

"Now... Well, I'd rather you were stronger for this, but we have to go now." Bob- weren't his eyes supposed to be gray?

"Bob?"

"S-sorry, Frostbite. Shape shifting." Bob doubled over, and braced his hands on his knees. "Not the most comfortable thing to take off."

Jack swallowed, but didn't look away. It was a bit- odd- watching Bob's skeletal structure shift. His fur rippled, getting lighter, turning gray. His scars went away, and his markings turned darker, maybe dark gray, maybe black.

When he looked up, his eyes were bright green.

" _Bunny_?"

Bunny grinned, but the expression was edged with pain. "How you doing, Frostbite? C'mon. We've got to hurry."

Jack frowned. "You look _horrible_. Why are we running?"

Bunny stood up, staggered, and then scooped Jack up into his arms. "We're running because the bloke I paid to go off and get drunk ran out of the ready. Sobered up, headed over, suddenly there were two Chrysanthos running around and the mucky-mucks got cranky about that." He tightened his grip on Jack, and looked around.

"And- your _fur_ is falling out." It was, too. In clumps. "You're going bald?"

"Stress," Bunny said. "I been taking care of you, making nice with the village, pretending to be someone I'm not. Haven't been sleeping, or eating much either."

Jack tugged at a clump of fur, and flicked it away without comment.

"Alright," Bunny said, and looked at the rocks. "Tuck your face against me, Jack, and don't look until I say you can. El-Ahrairah's Pathways aren't the easiest route to take, and I don't know how it'd hurt a non-Pooka."

"Non-what?" Jack asked, but pressed his forehead against Bunny's shoulder.

Bunny didn't answer. Instead he stepped forward, there was an odd _wrench_ -

-and Jack passed out in sheer self defense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Who here called Bunny's disguise? (And yes- he went and paid the real Chrys to go off and have a bunch of drinkies. Aster, of course, didn't know that until he'd gone back in time to, uh, DO that, because wee!Aster got packed off to training ASAP.) 
> 
> Jack's injury is healing, but Pooka medicine doesn't work so good on humans, even human spirits. Of course, the reverse is the same, so fair's fair, right?
> 
> I think only one chapter left, now! And then the next story can begin...
> 
> Also, final note. "Ach du heiliger Strohsack" is German for "Oh holy straw mattress" or something, depending on how you translate it.


	15. Epilogue: Recovery

It took me about a week to get my energy back, after walking El-Ahrairah's Pathways. Tooth had been the one to find us, me collapsed over Jack. I wasn't sure how she'd known where to look- I still didn't know where we'd come out, though it was the right planet and the right time, maybe a few days after I'd first set off- but I was glad all the same.

Tooth brought us back to North's Workshop. None of us lacked a spot set aside to heal up and recover, but North's was the best appointed. And, too, he had Phil. The yeti might have been head of security, but his passion was for healing.

With Phil's attention, I was out of bed after the first two days, though I wasn't able to wander far. About as far as the chair beside Jack's bed, really, which was where I tended to park myself for the day. There was always company, but it was my off season and it wasn't Tooth's, or Sandy's, or North's either for that matter. And the yeti had their work. The elves, annoyances that they were, weren't exactly conductive to a proper healing atmosphere, so they'd been banished from North's medical wing yonks back.

It gave me time to brood over what had happened, and what I'd discovered.

Going back to Gallifrey before its destruction had always been an option, if I'd cared to court paradox. If I'd prevented Pitchner's fall to Pitch Black, wouldn't that invalidate everything that had happened afterwards? The Tsar sending his son off to crash land on Earth's Moon, me hiding the Last Light away deep below the Earth's crust, the Guardians...? Or would it have caused the splintering off of an alternate universe?

For Jack... for _Tarnaske_... I'd been willing to risk it. I'd picked an appearance I'd known well enough to counterfeit, someone I'd known no one would look too closely at. Half-breeds hadn't been popular in Gallifrey until the first Fearling War.

Even after the first Fearling war, half-breeds had only been tolerated.

The Pathways had taken me several day's travel away from where I'd needed to be, to rescue Jack, and I'd been snatched up by a war-band before I could start walking. I'd gone with it. When the real Chrysanthos showed up, I'd stolen a bit of the band-leader's money- Karin, I'd relearned her name was- and paid him to go off and get drunk.

Then everything had happened as I had remembered. The war-band had found Sarault. They'd found my younger self, and then Tarnaske- Jack. Jack had been hurt; Karin had been a formidable warrior, even suffering the loss of her pair-bond.

I'd stitched him up, back in the past, but Phil had insisted on doing it over. His stitches were a much neater line than mine had been.

Talking to my younger self had been strange. Realizing I'd known exactly how to save Jack, and that it played into my memories, had been even stranger.

There was no paradox, no splintering into alternate universes. Just me, an already bloodied knife, and getting Jack out of sight from the village so I could hide him away.

That old shelter of mine- you'd think more people would have looked there. The month Tarnaske had raised me, no one had gone near it. The three weeks I'd tended to Jack in there, again. Everyone left it alone.

I'd worried, a bit, but finally decided not to question it.

Only then Jack just didn't get better, not after a certain point, and Chrysanthos- the real one- arrived in Bunnymund Village.

We'd had to leave.

I reached over and brushed a careful finger over Jack's knuckles. Him asleep gave me a chance to study him, to merge the image I'd held of Tarnaske with the reality of Jack.

Tarnaske had always seemed so big, to me. Tall and strong, larger than life. Well, Jack wasn't very tall, but compared to a kit barely three feet tall... He was strong though. Strong enough to handle distrust and ignorance and being ignored; strong enough to be a Guardian even with a small belief base. Jack Frost, Guardian of Fun was becoming a well known phenomenon, but he still had a ways to go before he had the same number of believers as the rest of us.

He didn't have scales, which was one of the things that had thrown me off. Jack's skin was winter-dry, cracked a bit on his hands, not quite to the point of bleeding. In between bouts of staring at him, I'd written down ideas for recipes, salves for his skin, moisturizers, that sort of thing.

He didn't have fur, either, he had hair. Fluffy and white on the top of his head, a few hints of where his whiskers would grow in when he got old enough for them.

And, more importantly, Jack was male. A... _jack_ , to put it in plain Pooka terms.

Not a doe after all.

I sighed, and moved my hand so I could trace the curve of his eyebrow. Jack, annoying, loud, uneducated Jack was my Tarnaske, my childhood hero.

It still hadn't quite reconciled itself in my mind.

Tarnaske had been my _mother figure_.

Jack was anything _but_.

"Bunny?"

I looked up at the doorway. "Tooth." I straightened up, and left off tracing Jack's eyebrow.

"How are you doing?" She dragged a chair over; one better suited to her much larger tail. Mine could stand being squished against a chair back now and again, but hers couldn't. She must have gotten the chair from the dining room or something.

"Better. Well enough to take off if I wanted." I didn't want, and that didn't need said, either. I had to talk to Jack, some time when he wasn't out of his gourd on painkillers that barely worked.

Tooth nodded, and brushed Jack's hair back off his face. "He looks so small, like this," she said, and looked down at his chest. His hooded sweater was a loss, from the blood, and the threadbare white blouse under it had all but disintegrated when I'd taken it off him. I'd left them both behind in the shelter. One of the yetis had already made him replacements that were almost identical, save being new.

The bandages wrapped around his chest- and the upper part of his stomach- was barely spotted with blood anymore. The first day or so Phil had been worried. Jack's blood type was rare or something, and blood donation didn't work so well between spirits.

"He's healing," I said. "Proper medicine works wonders."

"And... doesn't hurt..."

I about gave myself whiplash looking around to him. "Jack! You're awake!"

He grinned. It was a touch lopsided, and his eyes weren't focusing right, but Jack was awake and smiling. "Are we having... a state the obvious... contest? Water is wet. Hah. I win."

I snorted, and leaned back in my seat. "I'm going to get Phil," I said.

Tooth shook her head and stood up. "No, I'll get Phil- and Jack, your staff, too."

He grinned at her. "Thanks, Tooth."

He was asleep by the time she got back.

It set the tone for the rest of his recovery. If the first week had been spent dead asleep, the second week was spent more and more awake- and going more and more stir crazy, it seemed.

"Are you going to answer my questions?" he asked.

"Not yet." I didn't look up from my book, which meant the snowball got me right between the ears. I looked up and glared.

Jack glared back. "Seriously. Tell me what happened, where the heck I was, and _what happened to Aster_."

"Not until you can stay awake more than an hour at a time," I said. I wanted to tell him. I wanted Jack to be Tarnaske, I wanted to be a kit again, I wanted everything to go back to before Jack had gotten knocked into the past.

But I couldn't put it off forever. In the end, the confrontation happened in front of everyone. Jack wasn't inclined to be patient any more.

"Bunny." Jack pointed at me. He was standing in the middle of the room, dressed, and every so often he'd shrug his shoulder so Tooth would stop patting at him. Sandy and North looked poised to catch him when he fell. Tooth looked annoyed and motherly and one short step from scooping him up and dropping him back into bed.

I held out a peace offering of apple pie. Going to get food had turned into an expedition, somehow ending with a whole pie and a bit of a run from voracious elves.

"Yeah, no. No pie!" Jack thumped his staff against the floorboards, and almost toppled over. He caught himself before anyone else could. "You're going to answer my questions! Now!"

I set the pie on a side table, and tried not to look nervous. Emphasis on _tried_. "What questions?"

"Where _was_ I?" Jack thumped his staff again. I wondered if it meant the same thing as a cat twitching its tail, and decided it probably did. "I guess it wasn't your super-secret hideaway-"

I choked, and missed some of what he said next.

"-but seriously, it was weird, and no one spoke English and _where was I_?"

Sandy floated over, and started patting me on the back. It didn't actually help me breathe any better. I only straightened up when I stopped wheezing.

"Gallifrey," I said, finally. "My home planet."

"Super-secret hideaway," Jack muttered. "Fine. Fine!" He glared at me. "The disguise?"

"Paradox."

He looked a bit confused at that, and then furious. " _That's_ why you didn't take Aster away from those nut-jobs?"

Tooth choked. Sandy actually stopped floating. North frowned, and then his eyes got big and he looked between Jack and me.

"Jack," I said. "Frostbite. I-"

"No!" He thumped his staff, and this time frost curled out from the point of impact. "You _left_ him there and I don't care about paradox! He _needed_ me and you left him. You have _no idea_ how things are for him, Bunny! And I- you-"

It was only at that point that I noticed the wind was howling at the windows. Like the rest of North's Workshop, the windows were big and took up most of the wall.

They were rattling in their frames.

"I _promised_ him," Jack said. I heard his teeth grinding together, and it was a good thing I'd long ago learnt it meant differently for humans than for Pooka. "And because of you I've broken my promise."

At that point the windows blew in.

When the snow stopped swirling, everything was covered in at least two inches of the stuff. Tooth lowered her wings, and flicked them back and forth. "Wow," she breathed.

Jack was gone. I walked past the others, and leaned against the window sill. Jack was gone, and he was still too injured to manage on his own. "Tooth," I said. "Think you can find him?"

She tried. But this time, her spell didn't manage to find anything of Jack's; not his staff, not the necklaces he'd made, and not him, either.

I retreated to my Warren, and my burrow. It had been too much to hope, really, that Jack would want anything to do with an adult rabbit. Children were much cuter.

I told myself it didn't hurt. If I told myself that often enough, maybe I'd believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No worries, everyone, Jack's going to be fine- but you'll find out how and why and where and all of the rest of the w's in the next story, Pacing the Heart. Yes, there will be a second story- part two of three- and it will pick up where Walking has left off.
> 
> The posting schedule for Pacing the Heart will be a bit different, though- I'm going to try writing a chapter of my original novel between all Pacing chapters- so you'll get chapter one of Pacing, then I'll get a chapter of my original done, then shampoo, rinse, repeat. (So feel free to nag if you think I'm taking too long, it'll hopefully get my butt moving on the original stuff.)
> 
> Anyways, that's it for now! Questions, concerns, go right ahead and ask, and as long as there's no spoilers I'll even answer. I'm an evil author, but not THAT evil!


End file.
